Demons, Part 5
by Princepen
Summary: Story is now complete! Check out Demons Parts 1-4 before reading this one, or I doubt it will make any sense to you. Please read and review if you are so inclined!
1. Chapter 1

**Demons, Part 5,**

**Chapter 1**

_The feel of her hands on his back was like cool silk. He had always wished for this to happen, and as she looked up at him she was so beautiful. He relied on the pressure of her hands moving to his lower back to communicate her needs and wants, because he realized she was deliberately trying to be quiet. They had agreed that no one else should find out about this. Just as their breathing quickened and they fell into sync, the door hissed open behind them, and they separated, both breathless. His perspiration turned instantly cold on his skin and for a moment he thought his heart was going to come out of his chest. Beverly clutched the covers up to her chin and stared wide-eyed at the door. _

_He turned in slow motion, attempting to cover himself, and that was when he saw the man walk through the door, phaser leveled at his naked chest. A ragged gash ran down the length of the man's face from his scalp to his chin. A gaping wound covered most of his lower torso. His eyes were lifeless, but somehow were still filled with hatred. "Jean-Luc, I knew she didn't love me anymore, but couldn't you have waited until I was buried?" Jack Crusher's face contorted into a sneer as he fired the weapon, and he felt it burn straight into his heart. The blast spun him back around, and he fell face first on to the bed. The last thing he heard was Beverly screaming._

* * *

His eyes snapped open, and he knew immediately that someone was there with him. He was lying face down on his bed, and the entire front of his body was covered in sweat. "Who's there?" he mumbled, and pushed himself up slowly. A hooded figure stood in the early morning darkness. "T'Pel? Is that you?" He coughed and twisted around to an awkward sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and sore. His hand dragged down his cheek. Had he been crying? _Only in my dreams_, he thought sourly.

T'Pel stepped forward. "You were dreaming," she observed quietly.

Picard sniffed in. The air was too dry. "Yes," he said. "And I can't thank you enough for waking me up," he said honestly. "Since your brother has made his presence known I've had a number of disturbingly real dreams."

"Yes," said T'Pel. "There are stray psychic strands of Ra'Val's power still circulating on this ship, Jean-Luc. Despite his imprisonment, he is still able to affect the psyche of anyone on this ship, including me. If you try to hide your innermost fears and desires, his power will only become more controlling. My brother is extremely powerful, but he is not the only one to blame for bad dreams," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"You were dreaming of Beverly Crusher," she said. He exhaled and looked down at the covers twisting them in his hands. "But it was not just that you were dreaming of Beverly, but also of the guilt you feel about loving her as you believe that by doing so you are betraying your friend who has been dead for ten years. Just as you dreamed of your failed attempts to save the _Stargazer_, which has been dead for almost as long as Jack."

He stood up and threw his sheets onto the floor. "What are you inside my goddamn head now?" He tightened his bathrobe around himself angrily and walked over to the replicator. Lingering pain shot through his right leg and took his weight off of it, limping. Somehow his leg was getting worse, not better. All from a little scratch, he thought bitterly. "Water, cold," he snapped, and with a shimmer, a full glass of water appeared. He grabbed it and gulped it down fast.

T'Pel continued to speak. "As long as you deny your feelings for Beverly, you will continue to suffer, Jean-Luc."

He turned around and stared at her. "What do you know about feelings? You have practiced all your life to suppress your own feelings and now you are telling me how to face mine?"

"Perhaps the way that a Vulcan best handles her emotions is not the way that a Human should handle his," said T'Pel. "You are not a Vulcan, Jean-Luc. You cannot, and should not control your emotions to the detriment of yourself…or your friends."

He stared at her, but felt the anger slowly ebb. He wondered if it was something she was doing to his mind, or maybe it was just the words she had spoken that had the effect of calming him down. But yet, something in his mind protested, insisted on not being wrong. He looked his friend in the eye, attempting some semblance of credibility. "I don't love her," he said quickly in a low voice.

"Just because one says a thing, does not make it a fact," said T'Pel. "Do you forget that when you and I were together nearly twenty years ago, you denied your feelings for Beverly? I did not believe you then, and I do not believe you now," she said firmly, but without anger.

Picard folded his arms over his chest defensively, feeling as though he had just been exposed for a fraud. The only thing to do was to change the subject. "Surely this is not the only reason you came to wake me up at 0400 hours?"

T'Pel nodded. "Can we trust Admiral Imhoff?" she asked, quickly getting to the point.

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Who is 'we'?"

"You and I," she said. "The crew of this ship. Why did he remove you from command?"

Picard made a face. "I am the wrong person to ask about this, T'Pel."

"No," said T'Pel. "You are clearly the only person with whom I should inquire about this matter."

He drank another glass of water. "I suppose that at the very least, I owe you an explanation after everything you've been through over the past few days. Not to mention the fact that I haven't fully thanked you for risking everything to bring your brother into custody."

T'Pel nodded ever-so slightly but said nothing.

"Imhoff detests me. He once called me 'the most arrogant man to ever put on a Starfleet uniform', and swore that he would expose me for what I really was. To put it mildly, he thinks that I am not fit to command the new flagship," he said. T'Pel merely watched him waiting for further explanation. "It has to do with the loss of the _Stargazer_… I disobeyed his order to leave the ship."

"How curious. In the official transcript from the court martial proceeding, you testified that you did not hear the order. Specifically, you said that the communications headset inside your helmet had malfunctioned. Did you lie?"

"Yes," he said. It was the first time he had admitted that fact to anyone but himself, and to some degree it was a relief. "I lied."

"So if you did hear Imhoff order you to leave the _Stargazer_, then why did you not obey his order?"

He shook his head. She just glided from one uncomfortable topic to the next. "I can't tell you that, T'Pel, because I don't know."

"Even if you search your feelings?"

"I don't want to search my feelings, and that is the truth. But the point is that Imhoff does not want to see me successful, and to him success is equated with commanding the _Enterprise_. As far as I know, this is his primary motivation."

"And do you believe that if your lie is exposed, you will lose command permanently?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

T'Pel walked toward him. "There is something else, Jean-Luc. My brother is still a great danger. To this ship, to the Andorians, and to the people of Vulcan. As long as he lives, I do not believe that anyone is safe. And yet, I am not prepared to kill my brother, despite his actions."

"What do you recommend?"

"I will recommend to Admiral Imhoff that Ra'Val be transferred to a high security cell on Vulcan and then brought before the Vulcan High Council. They will decide his fate."

"T'Pel, I don't know if that will be acceptable; to either the Vulcan or Andorian governments. We are trying to avoid a war here. And if the Andorians object to your plan, you may just start one."

"Nevertheless, Captain, I need to know whether or not you will support me or stand in my way."

Picard frowned. "T'Pel, are you planning to circumvent the High Council? That may prove dangerous, given that they are the ones who sent you on this mission."

T'Pel studied his face for a moment and then backed away. "Perhaps I was mistaken…now is not the time to speak of this," she said, pulling the hood back over her face. Before he could say another word, she left his quarters.

* * *

Commander Riker sat in the Captain's ready room waiting expectantly but not particularly patiently. In Captain Picard's usual chair sat Admiral Imhoff. The Admiral had asked Riker to come in minutes ago, and since then he had been sitting there wondering what the hell was going on, and what was going to happen next. So far, not a word passed between them. Between the recent capture of Ra'Val and the sudden removal of Captain Picard from command of the Enterprise, Riker and the rest of the crew had been thrown from elation to uncertainty within a matter of hours.

More than anything, Riker wondered what could have happened to justify removing Picard from duty so suddenly. Certainly, the Captain had hardly mentioned it, and it was nearly impossible to know what the man was thinking. He had already learned that if Picard did not want to communicate, he could not be prodded into doing so. It was almost as difficult to comprehend how a Captain with nearly legendary status in Starfleet could be removed from command so easily with little or no explanation. Although it may not have been his place to ask, and hell, he barely even knew Picard; he asked anyway.

"I hope that Captain Picard's absence from the bridge won't be too long Admiral", he ventured carefully.

Admiral Imhoff looked up from his work and fixed Riker with a steely glare. "What is it to you? You've practically just met the man."

"Some of the crew is already asking questions, sir. They miss his presence, Admiral."

"Miss him? You haven't even known Picard long enough to miss him. Believe, me, once you get to know him, you might reconsider." Imhoff scoffed.

Riker took a deep breath. "Sir, this may be difficult for you to believe, but in less than two weeks, Captain Picard has gained the loyalty of this crew."

Imhoff smiled unpleasantly. "It _is_ difficult for me to understand. You see, I have known Jean-Luc Picard for years and it has always bothered me how such a…arrogant and cold man can inspire loyalty wherever he goes."

Riker said nothing. He supposed that Picard was a bit…detached.

Imhoff stood up. "Enough talk about Picard, and I suggest you get your mind back on the mission, Commander. Now I want suggestions from you on how to avert a war."

Riker stood up, and draped his hands behind his back. "We need to let the Andorians know that we have Ra'Val, sir. If they see him in custody, they may re-focus on bringing him to trial, instead of blaming an entire planet for his crimes."

Imhoff nodded slowly. "It's a start," he admitted.

"I recommend contacting Commander Zatha, sir. She commands the lead cruiser, the _Ishran_, and I think she can be reasoned with," said Riker. He considered mentioning that Captain Picard had been the one to reason with her, but decided against it.

"Zatha? Didn't she try to imprison Picard aboard her ship?" Imhoff was incredulous.

"Well…according to the Captain that order came from an Andorian General and Zatha gave him something of a…head start, I guess you would say."

Imhoff smiled craftily. "Really…a possible ally. Well, good then. Let's bring the Andorians aboard," said Imhoff sounding rather pleased with himself.

Riker nodded. "Aye sir."

* * *

He had finished his breakfast minutes ago. Now Wesley crusher sat with the side of his temple propped on his fist, repeatedly lifting and dropping the handle of his spoon on the edge of the empty cereal bowl with his other hand. Had his mother been in the room, she would have yelled at him by now to 'cut it out'.

Beverly Crusher walked into their quarters after answering an early emergency call in sickbay. A pregnant woman had gone into labor prematurely, but everything had gone more smoothly than she had expected and her patient had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. She couldn't help but wonder whether the stress of the last few days had caused the early birth, but she supposed that it was to be expected. It was not the first time that she understood the Captain's objections to having civilian crew members aboard.

She sat down at the table across from Wesley, and he barely looked up from tapping with his spoon when she entered. She began peeling an orange as she watched him with barely contained annoyance. "Something on your mind?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice from betraying her fatigue and irritation. They had all been pushed to the limit psychologically over the past 48 hours, and she knew her son was no exception. So far, neither of them had really spoken about their experiences while under Ra'Val's influence, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to.

He dropped his spoon with a clatter and shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know. I was just thinking, I guess."

"You're always thinking. Care to elaborate?" She got up and walked over to the replicator. "Coffee, hot," she said. Moments later, with coffee in hand she walked back over to the table and sat down again.

"I can't believe they fired Captain Picard," he blurted out suddenly.

"He wasn't fired, Wesley…at least not permanently. He's still a Captain."

"Yeah, but he's not _the_ Captain. And he's not in command of the _Enterprise_ anymore. So who is?"

"Admiral Imhoff," she said taking a sip of her coffee.

"What a jerk," said Wesley with a glowering look.

"Wesley!" It was all she could say, as she didn't disagree. Imhoff was a jerk, after all.

"Well…." They were silent for a few more minutes. "Has Captain Picard said anything to you about what happened on the bridge when we were all unconscious?" he asked watching her carefully.

She looked at him. "No." Wesley looked somewhat relieved, and she wondered why. "We haven't had a chance to speak much since Imhoff came aboard," she added, tearing at her orange absently. Delivering babies always had the strange effect of taking away her appetite for a few hours. "Besides he's been confined to his quarters," she added. "Imhoff caught him giving Data orders after he had been removed from his post."

"Oh. Well, I bet he's pretty angry about that."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Crusher murmured and put her cup down.

"Why don't you go and see him?" Wesley suggested.

His mother's face reddened and she shook her head. "I don't think so. He wouldn't like that, Wes," she said.

"Why? You and Walker have known him longer than anyone else here. I bet Walker has already gone to visit him."

"That's different," she said, and finished her coffee quickly.

"How is it different? I don't get it—"

"Wesley," she said, getting to her feet. "It would take too long to explain. Anyway, I need a shower badly, so I will see you later?"

"Sure," he said, and winced as she ruffled the hair on top of his head as she walked by.

* * *

Picard scowled at the sound of the door chime. Who the hell was paying him a visit now? He pushed himself up from his chair, unsteadily. In less than an hour, his leg had begun to appear bruised and had become swollen. He felt light-headed as he stood, facing the door. "Come," he said, and realized suddenly how weak his voice sounded to his own ears.

It was Wesley Crusher, who hesitated at the door.

"Please come in, Mr. Crusher," he said, putting his hand on the back of the desk chair for support. Wesley crept in slowly as though he was afraid someone might jump out at him.

"Hi, sir," said Wesley, coming to a halt with his hands folded in front of him.

"Hello…" said Picard. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments. Wesley tapped his foot.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, Captain."

Picard smiled tightly. "I am quite well, Wesley, how thoughtful of you to ask," he said. _Now please leave_, he thought to himself. The pain in his leg was now radiating up through his groin and it was an extremely unpleasant sensation. In fact, he was beginning to feel nauseous. For some reason, the boy would not leave.

"I…also wanted to thank you, sir. You know, for not telling my mom about what happened on the bridge."

Despite his discomfort, he laughed. "Wesley, we can't be held responsible for what we experienced up there. We had no control over the situation. Besides… I could tell that you were embarrassed by the circumstances. Don't forget that I was a teenage boy once. Why on earth would I tell your mother?"

Wesley laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Captain."

"I should be thanking you Wesley. If it was not for your ingenious design, we might not have captured Ra'Val. You helped to save everyone on this ship."

"Does that mean I can come up to the bridge more often?" Wesley said hopefully.

Picard sighed inwardly. "Wesley…as you know, your mother was none too pleased when I asked you to work from the science station the other day. I would very much like to avoid another argument like that again. So, why don't we just take these opportunities on a case by case basis?"

Wesley nodded slowly. "Okay, that sounds fair."

Picard was beginning to feel light-headed again, and could actually feel his body begin to sway. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Wesley nodded and turned to leave. "Bye sir," he said walking out the door.

"Goodbye…" As soon as the boy left, the room turned grey and he fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 2**

Commander Zatha sat quietly in her personal office on board the _Ishran_. Recently she had learned some interesting facts about a desolate mining planet within Vulcan territory. From these facts and her observations of the behavior of her superiors, she had developed her own theory for why she and the other fleet commanders had been ordered to this system; and more importantly, why her superiors in the Andorian military seemed intent on advancing on the planet Vulcan at any cost. Now the question was, now that she had this little bit of information what was she to do with it?

She looked up as her communications panel beeped. "Commander Zatha, we are being hailed by Starfleet. It is the _Enterprise_, sir."

"I will take the message in here," she said. Her view screen popped on and a grey haired and decidedly overweight human male appeared on the screen. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. She had not expected this. Perhaps Picard had been killed after all. How disappointing.

"Commander Zatha," said the human. "I am Admiral Imhoff, of the USS Enterprise. We have something I think you might be interested in."

"Oh?" Zatha said with a small smile. "I will be the judge of that, Admiral," she said and she watched as his eyes bulged slightly. Clearly he already disliked her as much as she disliked him.

"Well, in order to see it, you'll have to beam over here, Commander."

Zatha's smile widened and she leaned forward for effect. "Oh, how delightful. I can assure you that if this is a trap Admiral, one of us will end up dead; and it will not be me. I will beam over shortly." Before he could respond, she cut the channel.

Commander Zatha sat back in her chair after the view screen blinked off. How curious that someone from the _Enterprise_ other than Captain Picard was contacting her. She hoped that he was not dead. If he was no longer in command of his ship, it was highly likely that the poison had either incapacitated him or killed him. He might not have much time left, in fact. She placed her palm on one of her desk drawers and it popped open silently. She reached in and pulled out a vial of bright blue liquid and examined it in her palm. Such a small amount, yet so potent. Placing it inside her tunic, she got up and headed for the transporter room.

* * *

A few minutes later, Commander Zatha stood alongside Admiral Imhoff, Commander Riker, Commander Data and Dr. Crusher in one of the Enterprise cargo bays. Zatha glanced around surreptitiously trying to avoid the appearance that she was gawking at their beautiful ship. It made the _Ishran_ look terribly sad in comparison. She turned as the deplorable human admiral was speaking again.

"And so you see, Commander Zatha, Ra'Val is perfectly incapacitated."

"He looks very alive to me," observed Zatha. "Why did you not kill him?"

"An agent from Vulcan who has been traveling with the _Enterprise_ incapacitated him along with our Mr. Data, here," said Commander Riker. "They only just escaped with their lives, so killing him was not a possibility at the time."

Zatha took a look at the gold-hued android standing next to Riker. She noted that he did look remarkably alive. And a Vulcan responsible for taking down Ra'Val? Interesting. "I understand that he was difficult to kill at the time, Mr. Riker, but now that you have him floating here in some kind of suspended animation…why have you not killed him?"

Riker paused. "With all due respect, Commander, that's not how we do things."

"Perhaps you would like to administer your own brand of justice," suggested Imhoff turning to look at Zatha slyly.

"And what do you know of Andorian justice, Admiral," Zatha said, walking around the floating prison and looking up at Ra'Val, who was still curled in a fetal position.

"I know it involves severed heads and very few questions asked," shot back Imhoff.

Zatha slowed her pacing and looked directly at Imhoff. "Not an inaccurate description," she admitted.

"We'll offer you Ra'Val in exchange for your retreat from Vulcan," said Imhoff. Riker turned to stare at the Admiral in disbelief. This had not been part of the plan. Imhoff deftly ignored him. "You have what you want now and can leave," snapped Imhoff.

"What makes you think that the Andorian government is interested in leaving Vulcan under any circumstances?"

Imhoff laughed harshly. "You can't be serious! A few days ago your people were calling for the blood of little children. Now we are willing to hand you the actual culprit and you are turning us down?"

For the first time, Zatha seemed to hesitate and her antennae rotated inward slowly. "Not turning you down…yet, Admiral, but I will bring your offer to my superiors. I will promise you that you will have an answer within one earth day. However, as I am told they say on Earth, 'don't hold your breath'."

Imhoff gritted his teeth and glared at Zatha in silence. Riker could just feel the contained rage rolling off of the man. As far as Riker was concerned, it served Imhoff right, for jumping the gun and offering to hand Ra'Val over. It was clear Zatha cared very little that Ra'Val had been captured. Besides, Riker doubted Imhoff had the permission from the Vulcan High Council to hand him over.

Zatha came to stand in front of Imhoff again. Her antennae now seemed to point directly at his forehead. "Now, Admiral, I am most interested in seeing whether my personal shuttle is in one piece or not. It's a family heirloom, and I would very much like it back. My children, if I ever have any, and if they are deserving enough, would be lucky to inherit it."

"It's completely intact, Commander," snapped Imhoff. "However, its arrival here was the direct result of you illegally holding Captain Picard prisoner aboard your ship. Perhaps, once you have discussed my offer with your superiors, I may consider giving it back to you."

Surprisingly Zatha seemed unfazed. But she also appeared to be somewhat pleased at the mention of Picard's name. "Is Captain Picard alive then?" she asked.

Crusher straightened next to Data. "Yes, no thanks to _you_," she said coldly. Zatha's antennae swiveled perceptively in her direction.

"On the contrary, Doctor…"

"Crusher," snapped Beverly, glaring at the woman.

"A worthy name," said Zatha. "On the contrary Doctor Crusher, I would say Picard owes me his life."

"Oh, is that so?" Crusher turned to face her, arms folded. "So when he ended up in my sick bay, unconscious, stabbed and poisoned, I have you to thank? He was nearly dead when he reached us."

Zatha laughed. "Think about it, Doctor. No one escapes my ship unless I want them to. Unfortunately my soldiers didn't seem to see it my way, and they tried to stop him. One of them had a knife dipped in an illegal poison, and unfortunately your Captain was not quite swift enough."

Riker put a hand on Crusher's shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She pressed her lips together, and nodded, stepping back.

Zatha smiled. She admired this woman's spirit; subdued but intense. If this was Picard's mate, he was fortunate. Reaching into her uniform she pulled out the vial of blue liquid and held it up to the light. "How is Captain Picard?"

Crusher frowned. "He's fine, doing much better. What is that?"

"It's the antidote," said Zatha mildly. "And if I am correct, your Captain is very much in need of this."

Crusher's face grew pale. "I synthesized something to fight the poison, and it worked quite well," she said slowly as though trying to convince herself.

"No doubt you did the best you could," said Zatha. "But an Andorian poison requires an Andorian antidote." She held out the antidote to Crusher, who took it carefully, palming it in her hand.

Crusher glanced at Riker worriedly. "I haven't seen him in almost 16 hours," she said. "Will…."

Riker nodded to Data. "Go with her."

Zatha said, "I would like to accompany them as well. Assuming that Picard is coherent I have matters to discuss with him."

"Picard is no longer Captain of this ship," snapped Imhoff, as Zatha walked away with Crusher and Data. Only Data glanced back momentarily, but then resumed his pace beside Crusher. Imhoff shook his head and looked at Riker. "Let's go," he said and they exited the bay.

Inside the blue-tinged bubble of energy, there was a crackling, and the field seemed to weaken ever so slightly before returning to its full strength. Ra'Val had opened his eyes.

* * *

Walker Keel was scheduled to head back to the _Horatio_ within the hour, but something didn't sit well with him about his last conversation with Jean-Luc. He didn't like the way things had been left between them. Certainly they had shouted at each other before, and it was really Jean-Luc's style to tell people to go away if he didn't like what they had to say. And if they wouldn't leave, he would. Walker on the other hand was given to spontaneous outbursts, and sometimes he couldn't even predict when they would come. He was fire and Picard ice, he supposed, and that was part of the reason they had stayed friends for so long—through it all, really. There was a time, covering about the year or two between Jack's death and the court martial following the loss of the _Stargazer_ that Picard's perfect exterior began to show cracks and fissures for the first time since Walker had known him.

Walker had been so personally distraught about Jack's death that he'd almost gotten back together permanently with Marlene, whom he'd recently separated from just before Jack's death. He cried on Marlene's ample shoulder for about two months, before ultimately, leaving her again, since her drinking problems only seemed to increase after Jack died. Marlene had loved Jack in her own crazy way too. Everyone had loved Jack.

Walker went away for a bit and then came back to stay with Beverly and Wesley for a few months. During that period, their friendship had only deepened. The old resentment she had held onto about Jack's affairs, and Walker's failure to reveal them to her sooner, seemed to drift away because those old betrayals and disappointments didn't matter to either of them anymore.

During this Picard buried himself in his work on the _Stargazer_, to the point that Walker had very infrequent contact with him. The_ Stargazer_ became involved in deep space missions, which Walker learned through his own channels, had been specifically requested by Picard. He knew that Beverly had written Jean-Luc letters that he hadn't answered, which had been very hurtful to Beverly. It was something Walker had personally witnessed, and it broke his heart.

As much as Picard drifted off after Jack's death, he became even more distant a year later when he lost his ship. He never discussed the full story with Walker, and seemed intent on keeping it inside. He seemed to revel in punishing himself for these horrible things which had been out of his control. Following the court martial, Picard had become even more withdrawn. It was no wonder that Jean-Luc was acting somewhat strange around this whole Imhoff issue. Maybe seeing Imhoff again brought back some feelings he hadn't fully dealt with before.

* * *

Walker hesitated outside of Picard's quarters. _Get ready for a fight,_ he told himself as he pushed the chime. There was no answer, so he pushed it again, but there was still no answer. "Computer, where is Captain Picard?"

"Captain Picard is in his quarters," said the computer.

"Is he sleeping?"  
"Captain Picard is not conscious," said the computer.

"Is he in bed?"

"No," said the computer.

"Emergency override, voice print Keel Alpha 2," he said quickly. The door slid open and Walker ran in. His friend was draped headfirst over a chair, clearly unconscious. He pulled him down to the floor, cradling his head. Some kind of liquid had come out of his mouth and had dried into blue crystals. His breath was shallow. He gave the rest of him a quick check, and saw that his right thigh had swollen to twice its normal size. It was where he'd been poisoned. He looked around quickly for something to cut the pants with, but Picard's room was as austere as he was. Walker ran to the replicator and asked for a cutting tool. When he returned to Picard, the man's head was moving back and forth and he was trying to speak. Walker used the tool to make a cut and freed the leg, which was a disgusting purple color. "Must have happened so fast," he breathed.

He looked up as he saw Beverly, Data sprint into the room, followed by a tall, attractive Andorian walking quickly. The Andorian was not armed, and seemed to be with them, so he decided not to jump to any conclusions. "Just found him here," said Walker. "If he was this sick last night, I didn't notice it," he said, feeling guilty.

Beverly knelt down beside Picard without a word and ran the tricorder over him. "I have to get him to sick bay," she said.

Zatha's antennae flattened close to her skull. "He's too far gone. You have to administer the antidote now, Doctor."

"Will a hypo do it?"

Zatha nodded.

"Let's move him off of the floor at least," said Crusher. Data nodded and knelt down easily picking up the Captain and brought him to his bed in the other room.

* * *

The first thing he heard was voices. Was he dreaming again? He heard Beverly, but _oh_ _no_, not another dream like before. No, there were other voices. Why were people constantly visiting him in his quarters. Didn't the captain deserve some privacy? Didn't they understand, he was horrible company, and yet the visitors just kept streaming in. He tried to concentrate. What had happened last? Young Wesley Crusher had been in to speak to him and then he'd left…only blackness after that. He really had to stop talking with that boy. Each interaction seemed to end worse for him than the last. He tried to concentrate again, as he heard Beverly's voice again.

"Like hell. I am not leaving you alone with him," she said with quiet anger. "He was poisoned on board your ship."

"And I brought you the antidote didn't I? Do you think I want to save him just to try and kill him?" asked a voice, somewhat familiar but not in an entirely pleasant way.

"That thought _had_ crossed all our minds," said Walker drily.

"Although you have redeemed some of your earlier actions, your motivations are still suspect, Commander Zatha," offered Data.

Zatha stared at the android and her antennae twitched in irritation. She turned back to Crusher. "What I have to tell Picard is highly classified," insisted Zatha.

Crusher folded her hands over her chest and pursed her lips. "We can't trust—"

Zatha stood to her full height, which was considerable. "Why so much resistance, Crusher? Are you his doctor or his life mate?"

"His doctor," Crusher snapped.

Picard's eyes fluttered open. "Zatha? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, Picard. But you wouldn't know it, based on the reaction of your crew."

"What-what happened?"

"The poison entered its final stages, Captain," said Zatha. "I brought an antidote, which your _doctor _administered, and now you will finally be able to recover." Crusher continued to glare silently at the wall.

Picard turned over halfway in his bed. "Beverly?"

"I'm right here, Jean-Luc," she said, and gave Zatha a not so sweet smile. "Commander Zatha is right. The poison entered a dormant stage we were unaware of until she came aboard with the antidote. You're going to be okay," she said, touching his shoulder lightly.

"Thank you," he said to her, his voice cracking. He looked around for a glass of water. Crusher saw what he was looking for, and handed it to him. He sipped it carefully and then balanced it on his chest. He smiled up at her, glad to be alive. She smiled back at him, and there was something soft and lingering in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Jean-Luc," she said, with an overly serious tone, obviously directed at the Andorian captain. "Commander Zatha has come all this way, and she says she has something very important to tell you. Apparently it is so important that we have to leave her alone with you to tell you this news. Walker, Data and I will stand outside the door, and if we hear anything odd…."

Picard coughed, and oddly felt a laugh coming on. So as not to offend her, he kept a serious face. "Thank you, Beverly, I appreciate your protection, but I think it will be alright. Please do wait outside the door, though." She nodded and squeezed his hand, before leaving with Data and Walker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 3**

"Picard, I am very envious. If my own crew showed that much concern for my welfare, I might be able to finally sleep with both eyes closed." Commander Zatha grabbed a chair and moved it closer to Picard's bedside, sitting down gracefully.

Picard laughed. Having tangled with Zatha's crew recently, he did not doubt her statement, but he found it odd that such a leader did not inspire the kind of loyalty from her own people which she surely deserved. He found it even more bizarre that despite the circumstances he respected and even liked Zatha. "My crew has had plenty of reason to be concerned recently, I am afraid," said Picard. "As you are personally aware, I've had some difficulties of late," he said rubbing his forehead.

"Yes, Picard. Each time I see you, you appear more pathetic," she said.

He merely raised his eyebrows. "Well, I have you to blame for some of that. And yet, ironically, here I am recovering again, thanks to you. And so what is this information you have for me?"

Zatha grew serious. "I have thought long and hard about this Picard, and I believe that at this time, you are the only one I can trust; Andorian or Human."

"Really," said Picard. "I'm touched," he said cynically, but to some degree he actually was touched. He shifted in his bed, to sit up straighter.

Zatha tilted her head slyly. "Ever heard of Delta Vega?"

He squinted, trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. He shook his head. "Not that I recall," he said.

Her mouth curled into a small smile. "But surely you know what trilithium is…"

He frowned. "Of course I do. It's one of the most powerful ores native to the Alpha Quadrant. Also one of the most volatile, which is why its extraction and refinement is so highly regulated."

Zatha nodded. "Delta Vega is an icy planet just inside Vulcan space and it is not far from Andoria. It is also the remaining known source of trilithium in this sector. At one time, Andoria had a small amount of trilithium under one of our polar sheets. A shadowy mining operation extracted it all within the space of a solar year. At the time it was thought that an organized crime syndicate was to blame, but few paid very much attention."

Picard nodded. "But now you've learned something more."

"It wasn't until a few days ago, when we arrived near Vulcan, that I discovered a very problematic connection between Andoria suddenly running out of trilithium and our mission to Vulcan. Upon our arrival I noted that our command ship, the _Striker_ sent out probes to Delta Vega. General Thran commands the _Striker_, and he also happens to be the head of one of Andoria's wealthiest mining families. Putting these facts together, I believe Thran's search for more territory to be the primary reason we are now here at Vulcan."

Picard folded his arms over his chest. "There is only one reason trilithium is so sought after," he said slowly. "It's used almost exclusively for weapons production, and most of the weapons trilithium produces are illegal."

"Right. Which means that Thran is an arms dealer on the side," said Zatha. "Who knows what backward planets he has been selling his products to?"

"And so using Ra'Val's attack on the Andorian colonists was just an excuse to move in on Vulcan territory?" Picard sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, feeling a little dizzy, but stronger than before. And his leg felt much better. "Thran cannot be allowed to establish a foothold in Vulcan territory for his own gain. Commander, you are in the best position to expose him," he said.

Zatha smiled but shook her head. "No, Picard. You are. The question is when to expose him and who will you give this information to? If anyone," she added.

"Surely, with this information you cannot in good conscience obey an order to attack Vulcan," said Picard dubiously.

She raised her chin. "I cannot say for certain what I will do at this point. The point is that the Andorian High Command, guided by General Thran is not interested in leaving Vulcan under any circumstances. Your Admiral Imhoff believes he can simply feed us Ra'Val and that we will leave the system. But it is now clear that some of my superiors are more consumed by a hunger for personal wealth than revenge."

"What do you mean 'feed' you Ra'Val?" Picard felt his face and neck heating up.

"Oh, you were not provided with that information?" Zatha chuckled. "Perhaps you and I have more in common than we previously thought. Both of our commanding officers like to keep secrets."

Picard sighed. Imhoff thought he knew best, always had. But letting the Andorians have Ra'Val? On whose authority? Picard ran his hand over his cheek, and found stubble. He knew he must look like hell. Clearly he had let himself go in the past few days being locked up in his quarters. He looked up at Zatha as she stood up. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

Zatha looked down at him. "As I mentioned, Picard, I trust you. I think when events reach the point of no turning back, we will both be forced to make…unpopular decisions. And I do believe that you and I want the same things, Picard."

He reached out with his hand, and gripped hers tightly before they both let go. She smiled. "It is a good thing that you did not die. I am going to return to my ship, now Captain. Should we meet again under better circumstances, I will be pleased," she said, and turned and left his quarters.

* * *

"I've been ordered back to the _Horatio_, Jean-Luc. Again…" said Walker. He and Crusher stood inside Picard's quarters after Zatha departed. Picard could tell Walker wanted to ask him what Zatha had said, but he didn't press. "By the way, Admiral Imhoff sends his wishes for your speedy recovery," he added with a wink.

"Oh, I'm sure," grumbled Picard. "Goodbye for now, Walker. And thank you…for your assistance earlier."

Walker held his arms wide and grinned at Picard tauntingly. Before Picard could back up, Walker had grabbed him into a hug. After a few moments of Walker delighting himself by making Picard feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Walker stood back and regarded him fondly. "So glad you are going to be alright, old friend," Walker said, clapping him on the shoulder. Then after kissing Beverly on the cheek lightly, he left. "Both of you be safe out there," he said, as the doors hissed shut.

"He loves you, you know," Beverly said, turning to look at him softly. "Just like Jack did." The look in her eyes conveyed so much that he had to strongly resist his usual inclination to retreat at the mention of Jack's name. Instead he stood looking at her for a few moments. She looked down suddenly, "Jean-Luc, I can't tell you how guilty I feel that I didn't properly treat your condition. As much as I was angry at Commander Zatha, she's right; she did save your life."

He shook his head. "Beverly, you did your best with the knowledge you had. A lesser doctor, and there are many, might not have been able to save me as you did when I came in on that shuttle. Besides you have been busy preparing your sick bays for possible battle. You have had your hands quite full."

She smiled gratefully, but he could tell it was still eating at her. He knew she took tremendous pride in being a physician, even if she rarely said so. She began to pace a bit. "Being out in space is so completely different than being at Starfleet Medical where the resources are almost unlimited. I've just got to get used to it, and more than anything, I've got to learn to expect the unexpected."

"There is that," he agreed. "But I have no doubt that you will be up to the challenge, Beverly. You are a terrific doctor. You always have been."

She blushed slightly. "Thank you," she said. They stood in silence for a few more moments before the intercom beeped its interruption.

"Riker to Captain Picard," drifted Riker's voice. He sounded irritated.

"Picard here."

"Sir, Admiral Imhoff has requested your presence at 1600 hours sir. He would like you to go to the conference room adjacent to the bridge."

Picard frowned. "What is this about, Commander?"

"I'm afraid I can't say, sir."

Picard shrugged. "Very well. Thank you, Mr. Riker."

When the channel was cut, Picard made a face and looked at Crusher. "Imhoff can't even lower himself in order to call me on the intercom himself," he said. "I wonder what he's got up his sleeve, now." He broke into a slow smile. "At least I'll get out of my damn living quarters for a few hours," he said.

Crusher looked at the clock. "You're not expected at this meeting for another three hours," said Crusher. "And you know what that means," she added.

He stared at her, not at all sure what she meant. Several spontaneous and, he reassured himself, unintentional, impure thoughts ran through his mind. "Huh?"

"You need to catch up on your sleep…"she said smiling at his apparent confusion.

"Doctor," he began to protest, but she put her hands on his chest and gently but firmly pushed him backwards towards his bed. Reluctantly, he sat down heavily, and settled back against the pillows.

She pulled the covers up to his chin, and he averted his eyes, as a soft wisp of her hair brushed his cheek. He shut his eyes, as an image from his dream came back to him in startling detail. "You know," he heard her say, and he opened his eyes to see she was now standing above him, arms folded over her chest and a curious, half-amused expression was planted on her face. "Commander Zatha is quite attractive," she said, as though she had been mulling this over for some time. "And she certainly seems interested in you…."

Picard laughed uneasily. "Oh…I don't think so, Beverly. What a silly thing—"

"Trust me," said Crusher abruptly. "She's interested," she said with a knowing smile; but did he detect a trace of jealousy? _Couldn't be_, he told himself. But then a pleasant but odd thing occurred. Crusher leaned down toward him and ran her hand under his chin slowly. "And you need a shave," she said in a low, captivating voice. Still gripping his chin, she leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.

* * *

"You will be interested to know that Ra'Val, the one who admits to having murdered our villagers, has been captured and is on board the _Enterprise_. The Starfleet Admiral Imhoff asked me to pass along the suggestion that we take custody of Ra'Val in exchange for our withdrawal from Vulcan space."

"He insults us!" shouted Thran.

"General," said Zatha calmly. "Starfleet seems to be under the perception that the Andorian people have demanded revenge for the crimes Ra'Val perpetrated against our colonists. Is this perception incorrect?"

Thran hesitated. "No… the People still demand vengeance," he said, but with less bravado.

"But you do not want to take Ra'Val on board the _Striker_?" asked Zatha.

Thran's brush-like white eyebrows moved up and down. "Is he…safe?"  
"If by 'safe' you mean not dangerous, General, I am afraid I do not know. He still lives, therefore it is likely he could recover and again be a menace."

Thran scoffed. "And why haven't they executed him?"

"I was told they don't do that sort of thing, General. It is not their style," she added.

"Style! Humph. They seem all-too willing to unload a dangerous criminal," he said suspiciously. "I don't trust them."

"So what would you have me tell them, General?"

"Tell them…we will take their offer under consideration," he said dismissively.

"I already said that sir."

"Then tell them again!" the General shouted. He seemed ready to cut the channel, which was certainly acceptable to Zatha, when he fixed her with an exacting stare.  
"Commander Zatha, I am told you have my nephew in jail on board your ship."

"Lt. Hakka? Why yes, now that you mention it," Zatha replied as though she had forgotten she had placed her first officer in the brig.

"For what reason?" demanded Thran.

"He has been regularly insolent, General. He questions my authority," she said.  
Thran's antennae began to gyrate. "Enough," he grunted. "Release him at once!" he ordered.

"Yes, General." Zatha bowed her head as the screen blinked out.

* * *

Picard stepped briskly onto the bridge, and for the first time in a few days, he felt as though he were in the right place. Beverly Crusher had been right; catching up on sleep had been just the thing, and he felt refreshed. But even more than imparting her sound advice, to his immense surprise she had kissed him. It hadn't been a chaste peck on the cheek or a sisterly dry kiss on the lips either. She had really meant it, and he could feel that she did. And it had been by far the best thing that had happened to him in…well, he could not remember.

He tried to tell himself to stop thinking about it, but the more he tried to suppress his thoughts, the more he grew distracted remembering her touch, her sweet complex smell, and the fullness of her lips…and the warmth and nearness of her body. _Oh no_, he could feel himself getting aroused. This was not like him. Was he being influenced by Ra'Val? Was Beverly being influenced by Ra'Val? Had she even intended to kiss him?

He talked silently to himself, trying to calm down and focus. _Focus on what? _He thought with irritation. He had no idea what he was headed for however, with this meeting he had been ordered to attend. He hoped the subject of the meeting would be how soon he would be returning to command, as his role as the ousted Captain was wearing thin. Imhoff. There, he'd found the cure for his arousal. _Just think of Imhoff, and once you get into the meeting, you won't have a choice but to think of the bastard, because he will be right there in front of you._

Riker stood up as Picard walked down the ramp toward the command center. "Captain, it's good to see you sir," he said with a big smile.

Picard nodded and stopped. "How are preparations coming along, Number One?"

"Very well, sir. We'll be ready for whatever comes our way. And good luck, Captain," said Riker as Picard stepped away in to the conference room.

* * *

Admiral Imhoff sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him. Next to him sat his aide, the same dark-haired man wearing a gold and black security uniform, whom he'd seen in the cargo bay a few days before. Picard, who sat across from them at the long obsidian table, noted that the aide had no rank pips on his collar, and seemed completely unfamiliar. The man stared at Picard with a very serene yet unkind expression. Picard returned the man's stare with quiet confidence.

"We're just waiting for someone," said Imhoff, when he saw Picard shift in his chair impatiently. Imhoff looked down and continued staring with apparent interest at his data pad. All three men looked up, as the doors opened and Counselor Deanna Troi walked in.

"Gentlemen," she said by way of greeting, and sat down next to Captain Picard. She could sense immediately that his level of discomfort, which was already considerable, was elevated to new heights when she walked in. It was the empath's equivalent of him screaming "no" in her face.

But outwardly, he only nodded curtly. "Counselor," he said, his face expressionless.

Imhoff stood up, and gestured to Counselor Troi. "Counselor, thank you for coming. Please sit here," he said pulling out a chair next to him. Troi cringed inwardly, as she walked back around the table and sat down next to him. Imhoff was trying to present a united front, and clearly he wanted her to be a part of that front; the front opposing Captain Picard that is. Now all three of them faced Picard. Troi tried to put on her most non-threatening expression.

"Pardon me, sir, but what is this about?" asked Picard, who clearly saw the significance of his lone position on one side of the table.

"It's about your fitness for duty, Captain," said Imhoff fixing him with a stony gaze.

"With all due respect, sir, I have already passed the same fitness for duty tests administered to the rest of my crew following Ra'Val's attack on this ship. Everyone, save for me has been returned to duty. Now, I should like to know the reason why, Admiral," said Picard, his voice hard.

"Are you quite well, Captain? Doctor Crusher reported that you had a bit of a setback," said the man sitting next to Imhoff.

Troi felt a wave of anger pass through the room, emanating from Picard. "I'm sorry, I am afraid we haven't been introduced," he said, looking the man up and down as though he had just appeared in the room. Troi allowed herself a slight smile.

"This is Jackson," said Imhoff. "He is an investigator with Starfleet Intelligence."  
Again, Troi felt a wave of something from Picard, probably best described as distrust.

Picard smiled coldly. "Ah. I see. I was wondering if the uniform you are wearing was just for show," he commented.

Imhoff's expression was disdainful. "To answer your earlier question, Picard, the reason why you have not been reinstated to command is because I have serious questions about your fitness for duty."

"Please ask them then—"

"You will NOT give me orders, Picard!" shouted Imhoff, leaping to his feet. Placing his palms flat on the table he stared down at Picard with barely contained rage. Picard glared back silently. "Now I am going to leave this room and return to my duties as _Captain_ of this vessel, while you answer Jackson's questions. And under no circumstances are you to try to manipulate this inquiry to your own advantage, nor will you refuse to answer any question posed, or I will have you removed from this ship. Understood?"

"Understood. And Counselor Troi's role at this meeting?" prompted Picard, his eyes now completely aloof.

Imhoff smiled coldly. "She will be assessing your psychological fitness, of course," he snapped, and then exited the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 4**

"T'Pel of Vulcan…you have returned," said Delegate Stahl impassively appearing on T'Pel's personal view screen.

"I have fulfilled my directive to bring the Redeemer children back safely," she said. "I would like to arrange for their transport down to the surface. I am concerned for their welfare and where they will be placed. They are orphans now," she said.

Stahl bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Your service to these children is appreciated, T'Pel. However, you are to await further instruction before taking any additional action with regard to the Redeemer children," he said.

"But I have completed my mission," she repeated, "and now the children must travel to a safe place…at home on Vulcan."

Stahl sat forward with his fingers forming a loose triangle. "What place on Vulcan do you believe would be a suitably safe place, T'Pel? We are on the verge of war with Andoria."

"The children must not suffer any more than they already have, Delegate," she said quietly.

"Then you must guide them to see logic, while we resolve larger concerns," he said.

T'Pel sat stiffly. "And Ra'Val?"

"He lives, does he not?" asked Stahl. T'Pel nodded. "Then as long as he lives, he will not set foot on Vulcan," said Stahl.

"But it is on Vulcan that he may be kept under control, where his threat will be lessened."

"Do you hear your own words? To lessen his threat is insufficient. He must be destroyed. You have learned his intent T'Pel. You know that he wants to destroy the Council and gain control of Vulcan."

"I refuse to kill my own brother," said T'Pel calmly.

"Then you will bring a pestilence on your own people," said Stahl. The screen blinked out.

* * *

"His spine was crushed in two places…now it has completely regenerated, Admiral," said Doctor Crusher amazed at the sound of her own words. She snapped her tricorder shut. "Normally I would be ecstatic to see this kind of progress in one of my patients," she added, glancing at Admiral Imhoff. "But to be able to do this under his own power…" she trailed off. The idea of Ra'Val getting well was a frightening prospect. She had taken an oath to do no harm, but in this case, she wasn't sure if she hadn't contributed to the harm of many others by helping Ra'Val to survive.

"Then we had better hope that this temporary prison holds," said Imhoff. She watched as he walked slowly around the energy shell. Looking up at the Vulcan, he was still, and appeared asleep, but something about the position of his lean body made it seem as though he was coiled to strike at any moment. Crusher felt a sense of dread hanging in the air.

"Until when, sir?" she asked trying to keep her tone even.

He slowed his pacing and looked at her fixedly. "Until we can unload him on either the Andorians or the Vulcans," he said, casually draping his hands behind his back.

"_Unload_ him sir?" Crusher could not believe her ears.

"Yes, he's really the Vulcans' problem now don't you agree?"

Crusher almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of his words. "No sir, I think R'aVal is really everyone's problem. If the point is to try and avoid further bloodshed then we've got to figure out how to use Ra'Val to that end, not just dump him. He's not a problem that will just go away, Admiral."

"A week ago I would have agreed with you, Beverly. Now, I am not so sure." Crusher's eyebrows raised involuntarily at the use of her first name. Most people referred to her by her title out of respect, unless she had made it clear she wanted to be on a first name basis. Even Jean-Luc didn't use her first name unless, well unless he was in the mood to be informal, or something more. Her mouth creased into a smile and her mind began to dreamily drift backward in time to a few hours ago, when she realized that Admiral Imhoff was still speaking.

"Perhaps it is time for the Vulcans to step up and claim their prisoner. After all, he's one of them." He stopped next to her and revealed a small smile. "You don't like me very much do you?"

Crusher fidgeted and then stared straight ahead. Was he really going to make her answer that? "Admiral, I don't really see how that is relevant to our conversation," she answered, feeling an uncomfortable tickle on the back of her neck.

"I take it you don't approve of me removing Captain Picard from command..." he said standing closer to her now.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and looked him in the eye, moving to the side a bit to add some space between them. "I am sure you have your reasons, sir but...I do not understand why you are doing what you are doing, and no I don't agree. Of course my approval is not required..." she added, wondering if that would soften the blow to his ego somewhat. It did not.

Imhoff's portly face turned an almost unnatural purple color. "Of course your approval is not _required_," he snapped.

Crusher flinched slightly at his tone. Then why the hell was he asking her whether she approved? She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Admiral, I have a number of matters to attend in sickbay, if you will excuse me."

"I haven't dismissed you yet Doctor," he said with quiet rage.

She remembered something that T'Pel had told her in sickbay. _My brother's psychic presence is still strong, Beverly. Be careful to guard your emotions when you are near the energy field, or your feelings whether positive or negative may be magnified._ Was this what was happening to Imhoff? From what she had seen, he was an arrogant man, but this sudden aggression was alarming even for him. Crusher glanced around and her eyes fell on the lone security officer who stood near the cargo bay doors. He was staring at his boots as though transfixed. _Oblivious_, she thought dully.

Imhoff shook his head looking at her. "Strange...I thought out of all the officers on this ship, you might identify with my point of view about Jean-Luc Picard."

Her eyes widened in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, your history of course. The death of your husband…the other rumors…"

Beverly could feel herself becoming angry, and tried to remember T'Pel's words of warning. She took a deep breath. "Admiral, this conversation has become completely inappropriate," she said, taking another step back.

"Don't you want to know about the other rumors, Beverly?" He said, now advancing on her slowly. "How Picard wanted to you for himself, long before he became responsible for your husband's death?"

"You don't know what you're saying," said Beverly, continuing to walk backwards. "It wasn't his fault. I know the truth now because T'Pel told me. She was there when Jack died, and I know that what you are saying is a _lie_."

Admiral Imhoff's eyes began to cloud over and grow dusky. "Who could blame him for wanting you? You're such an exquisite woman. And look at you now, still in the prime of your life." He reached a shaky hand out to touch her face, just grazing her with his fingers. Without thinking, she pushed his hand away with one hand and struck him on the bridge of his nose with the heel of her other palm as hard as she could.

"Aah!" he cried out, staggering backwards. He looked up at her pleadingly, cradling his face in his hands. "D-Doctor, please forgive me, I don't know what just came over me," he breathed. He straightened and still held his face in his hands. Blood flowed freely through his fingers. She could see though that his eyes were no longer clouded over as before, although that was difficult to tell now that they were welling up with pain-induced tears. Looking at him, she knew he had been influenced by Ra'Val, but she didn't regret her actions in the slightest.

She looked at him with a trained eye. "You're going to need to get that treated. It looks broken," she said turning to leave. "I also suggest maybe seeing a doctor who doesn't have such a conflict of interest," she said without turning back as she walked out past the gawking security guard.

* * *

"Why did you not alert Starfleet once you discovered Ra'Val's presence on board this ship?" asked Jackson, Admiral Imhoff's investigator.

"There was simply no time to do anything but plan defensively," said Picard.

"Yes," said Jackson, checking his data pad and then looking back up at Picard. "You mentioned in your logs that it was a…teenage boy who came up with the contraption that captured Ra'Val."

Picard looked at the man as though he were a speck of dust on the table. "I am quite certain I did not use the phrase 'teenage boy'. No doubt I referred to Mr. Crusher by his name," he added.

Jackson shifted in his seat. "My point is—"

"Yes," said Picard. "Wesley Crusher came up with the original concept, and with his assistance Lt. Commander Data and Lt. LaForge finished building it."

"You let your helmsman build this device?"

Picard clenched his jaw. Was his every damn decision to be questioned? "Yes, and frankly, Mr. LaForge is much too skilled to remain at the helm for much longer. I see a probable promotion in his near future," said Picard. He hesitated. "I thought I might mention that now, in case you would like to offer an opinion on that as well," he added with dry sarcasm. Troi smiled slightly.

Jackson slapped the data pad down on the desk and interlaced his fingers on the table. "And what about Wesley Crusher, Captain? On whose authority did you have a civilian work on such a dangerous project?"

"On my own authority," snapped Picard.

Jackson stood up abruptly, a cold smile fixed on his face. "And that, Captain Picard, appears to be your failing. Did it not occur to you that you should consult with Starfleet Command? After all, the issue of Ra'Val effects far more than just this ship."

"I control the affairs of my own ship," he retorted. "At least, when it was my ship, I did," he added. For the first time, although his tone had remained callous, she sensed a weak spot. He really was hurt that he had been removed from command. And although he seemed not to be shocked by the fact that Imhoff was moving against him, he didn't quite understand why.

"You seem to believe that your authority is paramount, Captain," said Jackson, sitting back down slowly.

Picard folded his arms over his chest. "On the contrary, I respect authority—legitimate authority very much."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "And who decides what authority is legitimate and what is not worthy of respect? You?"

Picard sat stonily, but said nothing.

"Do I need to remind you that you have been ordered to answer my questions, Captain?"

"If I had a choice I would have walked out of this meeting ten minutes ago," said Picard.

Jackson leaned forward slightly. "Walk out at your own peril, Captain," he said smugly. Dropping his eyes to the tabletop for a moment, he raised them again now with a small smile on his face. "Explain again why you chose Wesley Crusher to perform the duties of a Starfleet officer," he said. Troi now detected a clear halo of anger hovering around Picard.

"Mr. Crusher had the first and most expedient idea to capture Ra'Val," he answered. "And since we had the means to implement it…we did."

"You had no…moral qualms about risking the life of Jack Crusher's son? Perhaps you act too freely with the lives of your crew, Captain," said Jackson.

"And perhaps you speak too freely," said Picard quietly. He stood up. "I am not going to sit here and listen to this anymore. Goodbye Counselor," he added and began to walk out.

Jackson stood up again. "Your stubbornness will be your undoing, Captain. You know what this is really about, Picard. Perhaps if you would just confess, Imhoff would give you your ship back."

Picard's expression was steely but his voice was steady and almost calm. "I refuse to be blackmailed into begging for a posting that I have already earned. If Admiral Imhoff thinks I have something to confess, let him come and ask me himself," he said, finally leaving the conference room.

* * *

Riker swore to himself silently. Deanna had just exited the conference room and settled down beside him without a word. She appeared to be deep in thought, and he was busy, so he didn't bother to ask. Judging by the way Captain Picard had stormed off of the bridge a few minutes ago, things were just generally not going well. Even worse, he had just received a disturbing message from the Vulcan High Council. And for a few minutes now, he had been trying to reach Admiral Imhoff with no success.

"Riker to Admiral Imhoff…" he said again into the intercom, trying to not let the irritation seep into his voice. At that moment, Imhoff stepped on to the bridge and headed down to the command center. Riker stood to address him and starting speaking. "Admiral, we've just received a communique from the Vulcan High Council…."he trailed off suddenly seeing Imhoff, as the man came closer. Had it been less of a shock it might have been a comical sight. "Sir…what happened? Are you alright?"

It was clear that the Admiral had taken a direct blow to his nose and the red line across the bridge of his swollen nose indicated it had been broken.

"It's nothing," said Imhoff, sitting down slowly in the Captain's chair. "I was in sick bay," he mumbled. "You were saying, Commander?" he prompted looking up at Riker with some effort. As she watched Imhoff avoid his question, Riker saw Troi's jaw drop a little. _Well, she knows something I don't…as usual_, thought Riker.

"Uh, the Vulcan High Council has issued a declaration refusing under any circumstances to allow the Redeemer children, or Ra'Val down to the surface of Vulcan, sir," said Riker.

Imhoff sighed. "So neither the Andorians nor the Vulcans want him. I suppose the _Enterprise_ is stuck with him for the time being."

Data turned in his chair at ops. "Sir, I do not believe that the energy field holding Ra'Val can be maintained indefinitely."

"How long can we expect it to stay intact then, Commander?" asked Imhoff.

"No more than 48 hours, Admiral," said Data.

"If that…" LaForge muttered next to him at the helm.

"Do your best to boost the power to the energy grid," said Riker. "Get some extra power from Engineering if you need it. We need that field to hold. Data and LaForge, please get to work," he said. LaForge and Data looked at each other and got up to exit the bridge as they were replaced by backup personnel.

Admiral Imhoff watched them leave. "Never in my life have I seen a helmsman down in engineering more than he is on the bridge," he muttered.

* * *

Commander Zatha sat in her command chair on the bridge of the_ Ishran_, and felt an overwhelming sense that something bad was about to happen.

"Commander," said Lt. Hakka, having once again returned to his place at the helm. "Incoming message from General Thran," he reported.

"On screen," she said.

General Thran's perpetual scowl blinked into view. "The time has come, Commander Zatha. You will proceed with the offensive against Vulcan."

She had wondered what she might do in this situation. Of course it would have to come to this eventually. "General, I have been meaning to ask you," she said, hearing the words as though they were coming from someone else's mouth. "How much do you personally stand to gain from capturing Delta Vega for Andoria? And is it worth the loss of life on all sides?"

Thran emitted a low growl. "Commander Zatha, commence the attack on Vulcan at once."

Zatha sat back in her chair. "No," she said, and cut the channel herself. Then it happened so swiftly. She looked up to find that several members of her crew lead by Lt. Hakka, stood with pistols pointed in her direction. _Fair enough_, she thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 5**

Commander Zatha sat in a dark cell on the Andorian ship the _Striker_, commanded by General Thran. After key members of her bridge crew had mutinied against her, she had attempted to fight them, striking down her tactical officer, but clearly they had been ordered to take her prisoner, and some coward had shot her with a weapon set on stun. Then, judging by the fact she woke up on the _Striker_ in a dingy cell, she had been moved off of the _Ishran_. She would have preferred a quick death, or even a relatively quick death to capture by that toad Thran.

What a fool she was. She silently placed at least some of the blame on Picard, for his moral counseling. She wondered whether she would have acted in the same fashion, by disobeying Thran's order had she never met Picard. But she knew the answer was that he had only confirmed a decision she knew was going to be inevitable, since she had found out about his real motivations. Thran was always going to give the order to attack Vulcan, and she was going to have to refuse, certainly not because she loved the Vulcan people, but she did not hate them either. But because she now knew the reason for attacking Vulcan had little to do with protecting the Andorian people from further attacks, nor was it even about vengeance.

Perhaps she should have killed Ra'Val herself when she had been on board the Enterprise, but she'd been too concerned with feeding Picard information she could have used herself. And, she had also been concerned that he would lose his life. Briefly she wondered if meeting Picard had made her soft, but rejected the idea. Why should she care about the opinion of a human? In any case, she needed to plan her next steps. Now that her subordinates had betrayed her, she knew that revenge would be her most trusted and possibly her only friend.

* * *

Riker left admiral Imhoff on the bridge to mull over the Andorian/Vulcan dilemma. It was mid-evening and he was finally off duty, but instead of going to Ten Forward he headed for sickbay in the hopes of getting a response to another unanswered question. He found Dr. Crusher in her office studying some requisition orders. She glanced up from what she was doing, stylus in hand. "If you've come to check on the status of my sickbay, Commander I can now report that we're as ready as we'll ever be for battle-if there is one. Now let's hope we don't need to use all of those extra beds," she added before returning to what she had been reading.

"Sounds as if you and your staff have been working hard Doctor, but that's not why I'm here", he said sitting down across from her.

"Oh?" She said still not looking up and sounding as if she was taking great effort to appear interested.

He cleared his throat. It wasn't as though he had known the ship's doctor for long but it seemed unlike Beverly Crusher to avoid eye contact. But if she thought he was going to leave that easy, she was mistaken. He tried a bit of humor to soften her sullen demeanor. "Admiral Imhoff turned up on the bridge a few minutes ago, looking as though he had just been head-butted by a Klingon," he said with a slight grin. He couldn't imagine Crusher liked Imhoff any better than he did.

Crusher pursed her lips and carefully put her data pad down. "Did he say what happened to him?" she asked slowly.

"Actually, no," said Riker. "He refused to say anything about his broken nose, which had clearly been recently treated, and just mumbled something about having been to sickbay." He watched her closely.

"Well, I didn't treat him personally, Commander but I can confirm that he was treated earlier this evening in one of the minor sickbays. But unfortunately that is all I can tell you."

Riker frowned. "You didn't treat him? Seems pretty strange that an Admiral wouldn't have gone straight to the CMO to get fixed up."

To his surprise, Beverly pressed her lips together, and it appeared that she was trying not to laugh. She quickly grew serious again. "Yes, odd isn't it? But no more odd than an Admiral sustaining a broken nose in the first place," she added, and stood up from her seat. She turned around and fiddled with something on a shelf.

Riker stood up as well. "So…you're not going to tell me how he broke his nose? Come on, Doctor, help me out here."

Crusher turned back to him and shrugged. "Commander, you know I would tell you if his broken nose in any way affected his fitness for duty, but it doesn't—it's been fixed. Besides, you said yourself he refused to discuss it, Will. Ever heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?" she said with a slight smile and tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her tricorder as she passed by. Despite his annoyance at her evasiveness, he laughed.

"Doctor, wait," said Riker growing serious again. "How is Tasha doing?"

Crusher stopped and nodded. "She's much better and I think by tomorrow morning she will be fine for limited duty. But she had a serious head injury, Will. And, she's been taking the deaths of her officer quite hard. I think she feels guilty at having survived the ordeal with Ra'Val."

Riker shook his head. "It's a shame we lost anyone that day. But now we need her well. Please have Deanna meet with her before she goes back on duty?"

Crusher nodded, and they stepped out of her office together.

* * *

His breath came quick but steady and the sound of his footsteps thudding on the moist ground was the loudest sound to be heard, save for the call of an occasional tree frog. The moon rose in front of him at the top of the hill, and the cool spring breeze whispered over his face and neck. As strong as his injured leg felt, he felt his right quadriceps and knee straining as the incline of the hill grew steeper. He had planned to try and forget about everything that was presently happening, things that he could do nothing about until he was restored to command. The more he became distracted and allowed these thoughts to creep in, the more difficult the climb was, and it seemed almost a miracle when he reached the top.

He slowed and gripped his right side just over his hip. He'd developed a cramp, and instead of picking up speed on the way down the hill, he just let his momentum lazily take him down to the finish. He was somewhat startled to see that waiting at the bottom of the hill was a slender, shadowy figure. He squinted, but it was too dark, and the moonlight alone was not enough to make out the person's features. "Doors," he called out, and the holodeck doors appeared quite literally on command.

He slowed and then came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The figure stepped out of the shadows. "Hi sir," said Wesley Crusher cheerily. Picard's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Wesley was dressed for a run, it appeared, complete with a towel around his neck, a jogging suit that looked three sizes too big, and a ridiculous looking sweatband around his forehead. He stuck out his arm abruptly offering Picard the towel, which the Captain took, with a grateful yet bemused expression.

"I hope you don't mind, sir, but I saw you a little while ago in the corridor on my way back from class. And, well I'd never seen you wearing shorts before, sir, so I sort of assumed you would be going for a run…and I remembered how you said we could go running together, and well…here I am," he said nervously. "But I can see you've already finished sir, so if this isn't a good time—"

Picard put his hand up to stop the boy from continuing to rattle on. "Mr. Crusher…I mean, Wesley," he said attempting to soften his tone. Why did he always sound so harsh? "If you'd like to run this course, it is wonderful. Let's stretch for a minute and I will run it with you."

"Awesome! I mean yes, sir."

Picard looked at him, and a feeling of what he now recognized must be affection began to creep into his head and heart again. Looking at the boy, he wondered if he had ever felt these feelings for Wesley when the boy was younger. He couldn't remember. He did remember feeling uncomfortable around Welsey as a toddler, and frankly that feeling was still there, but now he felt something else; a kinship. He'd been estranged from his own brother for years, and his parents were dead. The amount of close friends he had who were still living could be counted on his hands.

And yet, here was this teenage boy, who he never would have imagined having much in common with, and he could feel that a definite bond was growing. And he could see that Wesley was trying so hard, perhaps too hard, to impress him. He had to be careful, given his…attraction to the boy's mother, not to muddle the situation and give the boy the idea that he could be a reliable father figure. Wesley was likely to end up disappointed. _Oh hell_, he thought, _so much is so uncertain right now. _What would Walker have said? "_Just go with the flow, Jean-Luc,"_ or something or other of that nature.

"No, no," he said correcting the gangly teen, who was attempting to stretch out. "You've got to stretch this part here in front, or you will get shin splints. Here, watch me," he said showing the boy the correct way to stretch. If he had looked up to see the happily adoring expression on Wesley's face, he would have likely been embarrassed.

* * *

After the run, Picard walked Wesley back to the Crushers' living quarters. They didn't talk much on the way. When they reached the door, Wesley looked up at Picard. "Have you eaten yet sir? Mom had some reports to catch up on, so she said to just go ahead and eat without her since it's getting kind of late."

Picard shifted his gaze back and forth contemplating a means of escape. "Er…I really should be getting back," he said, as Wesley ignored him and walked into the living area. For some reason, Picard stepped in behind him. He glanced around, feeling as though he was intruding on Beverly Crusher's privacy. The fact that she wasn't there, didn't help. He consciously avoided even looking in the direction of what he assumed was her bedroom.

"When Mom's not here I get to eat whatever I want," called out Wesley from across the room. He turned to Wesley, who was walking back toward him holding two bowls of something. He put the bowls down on the dining table, and shoved one of them in Picard's direction. "This is my favorite thing to eat," he said and without further explanation began to demonstrate.

Picard hesitated to sit down, and decided against it. After all, he was completely covered in sweat and he doubted Beverly would appreciate it on her chairs. Still standing, Picard poked at the contents of the bowl, shoving circular pieces of some kind of grain around in a sea of cold milk. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

Wesley looked up wide-eyed with his mouth full, looking as though he never thought he would hear that question coming from anyone. "Cheerios, sir," he said, and a thin stream of milk dribbled down his chin. "It's an ancient Earth cereal delicacy, sir."

"Ah," said Picard, eyebrows raised. Well, he was rather hungry. He picked up the bowl, and had just taken a spoonful of the surprisingly delicious cereal into his mouth when Doctor Crusher walked in.

She didn't see him, as she came in and threw her coat and tricorder onto a nearby chair. He watched, taking quick mouthfuls of the cereal, as she stormed around the living area.

"So get this, Wes'. Wilson says to me, Doctor, we've only got two full body scanners in the ER in sickbay four, and I need at least one more. Can you believe that? In my hospital at Starfleet Medical I only had two scanners and he's on a damn starship! I mean, we're doing the best we can with what we have. The real problem is that there are too many doctors on this ship, and most of them seem to think they know better than I do…well I said to him—" She stopped short as she turned around and saw the Captain standing there, staring at her, eating cereal and wearing running shorts.

"Oh," she said, because nothing else came to mind. She looked at her son for some kind of explanation, but he was munching cereal with abandon, and staring at her blankly. _Why is he wearing that silly headband_? she wondered.

Picard was apologetic. He carefully put the cereal bowl down on the table. "My apologies, Doctor. I didn't mean to intrude. Wesley had joined me for a run, and…"

"I see that," she said, looking him up and down with a slightly impish expression. "And now you're encouraging him to eat cereal for dinner when I _expressly_ told him that he had to eat something more," she said walking behind her son and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Right, Wesley?"

Wesley froze. "Uh huh," he said, putting down the bowl full of milk he had been slurping from. "Sorry Mom. But don't blame Captain Picard. He didn't even know what Cheerios were," he said.

Crusher was unable to hide her amusement. "Oh, really?" she said straightening up. Wesley got up and moved around his mother. He grabbed both bowls and brought them across to the recycler.

Picard suddenly felt completely self-conscious in his running shorts and sweaty shirt. "He's right. I had no idea what a cheerio was. But they are quite delicious," he added.

Crusher smiled softly. "You can have a seat, Captain. You don't have to stand on my account."

"Oh I wasn't. I mean I _would_ stand on your account to be polite, that is, but at the moment I was just…"

She raised her eyebrows and bit her bottom lip, but said nothing.

He sighed, frustrated. "I hadn't been to your quarters before and I thought it rude to sit on your furniture in my current state. As you can see, I'm not very suitable at the moment."

Crusher sat down at the table and looked up at him. "Do I look like I mind?"

He didn't know what to say and as he caught her gaze, he immediately thought back to the moment, or several moments when she had kissed him. It had been just earlier in the afternoon, and it was less a memory than a present sensation in his mind and body. Her mouth formed into a small smile as she looked at him, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Mom?" Picard's gaze snapped up as Wesley was speaking, and realizing suddenly that he had come back to join them at the table. "Are you hungry? What about you, Captain? I can replicate you both something—"

Picard backed away uneasily. "Actually, I really must be going. Thank you for the run, Wesley, and for the dinner. Doctor," he said with a slight bow of his head as he turned to exit her quarters.

"Captain," said Crusher matching his formal goodbye as she watched him leave. "Nice shorts," she added faintly, as the doors hissed shut.

* * *

T'Pel stood staring out the observation deck. Her wounds had healed well enough and she felt much stronger. But she was concerned that her brother seemed to be healing just as fast, and that a strong Ra'Val was good for no one. She was not certain how he intended to accomplish his goal of uniting Vulcans under his new philosophy which appeared to worship the power of emotion, but she knew his first step would have to be the destruction of the council.

Suddenly a flurry of green flashes caught her eye out the viewport and she moved forward swiftly. Placing her hands on the glass she leaned out to get a better view. Immediately she saw that the Andorians ships had begun firing on the defensive perimeter set up around Vulcan. The smaller Vulcan defense force fighters flew at incredible rates of speed, twisting in and out between the bulky Andorian ships and racing back again.

She saw the largest and lead Andorian ship issue a flurry of weapons fire down at the planet itself, and she could only guess that they were targeting the Council building complex. The Council was heavily fortified inside and out and for now at least, protected by a defensive shield. T'Pel shut her eyes. How ironic that her brother would be aided in his goal by the Andorians. She knew it was a matter of time before he made a move. And she doubted if she would have the power to stop him this time. She supposed that she would die trying.

* * *

Picard had just finished showering and dressing, when the alarm sounded. "Red Alert, Red Alert," announced the computer. "This is Admiral Imhoff. All crew to report immediately to battle stations." For some reason, Picard thought of Beverly Crusher_. I should have stayed for dinner, _he thought,as he rushed out of his cabin.

When he reached the bridge, the place seemed in chaos. Riker and Imhoff were both barking orders at the crew. Imhoff turned for a moment to regard him coldly as he stepped on to the bridge. He resisted the urge to demand a report. Instead, he stood silently next to Worf at tactical.

Riker walked over to Imhoff. "Admiral, we've just received a message from T'Pel. She is recommending an increased security presence down in cargo bay 4, sir. She's there herself right now, sir."

"Why?" demanded Imhoff.

Riker straightened. "The Council is under attack Admiral, and T'Pel seems to think that as soon as its defenses are weak enough Ra'Val will launch his own attack."

"That's preposterous! He's in a fortified energy prison."

"One we all agreed will not hold indefinitely," interrupted Picard.

Imhoff turned to him. "Are you predicting that a single man is going to destroy the entire Council complex, Picard? Come now," he said condescendingly and turned back to Riker.

"I say we follow her recommendation, sir," said Riker. He tried to breathe normally. He knew that if Picard had been in command, the decision would have been made minutes ago, and they would have moved on to other concerns. But Picard was not in command.

Picard spoke up again. "Admiral, I will go to the cargo bay and assess the situation with T'Pel. I can send you a report from there," he offered.

Imhoff turned to him again, with a bare look of anger. "Trying to be the dethroned hero, Picard? I'll go with you to see for myself," he snapped.

Riker turned red. "Admiral, with all due respect, even though we don't appear to be the target of any fire from either side right now, there is a battle raging just a few thousand meters away. You should not be leaving the bridge at this time, sir."

"Handle it, Riker," snapped Imhoff, following Picard into the turbo lift. "You're too old to need a babysitter."

* * *

"That was unnecessarily harsh, Admiral," said Picard stonily once they were headed down in the turbo lift. "The man was merely offering his recommendation and you just attempted to humiliate him in front of the crew."

Imhoff smirked. "Don't act as though you wouldn't have said something similar, Picard. Don't forget I've seen you in action."

"Actually, I would not have said something similar, Admiral, because as Captain I would not have left the bridge during battle."

"Yes, and from what I recall, you won't leave a burning, abandoned ship even when ordered to."

"Is this always going to be about the _Stargazer_ Admiral? You seem unable to trust me because of what you believe I did, or rather what you believe I didn't do that day when my ship was falling apart. That was nine damn years ago."

Imhoff fell silent, and Picard for the first time noticed a thin red line, across the man's nose. _How strange_, he thought. Imhoff shifted uncomfortably, as he noticed Picard looking at him. "Whatever she told you isn't the full story," he said suddenly.

Picard's brow furrowed. "Who?" The turbo lift stopped and they stepped out in unison, heading for the cargo bay. Picard's gaze was still fixed on Imhoff. "What are you talking about? What story?"

"I suppose I deserved to get hit, but a broken nose? I didn't think she had it in her. Of course I didn't try to do anything to Beverly you haven't fantasized about yourself," he added almost lazily.

Picard stepped in front of him suddenly, which caused Imhoff to stop abruptly to avoid bumping heads with Picard. He tried to step around Picard, but Picard moved at the same time blocking his path. "What are you talking about?" he demanded in a low, voice. "Why did she hit you? What did you do to her? Did you touch her?" He stared into Imhoff's eyes and neither of them moved.

"Oh no," said Imhoff. "But I would have liked to. Does that bother you?"

"Stay away from Beverly Crusher," Picard threatened. They stood outside the cargo bay now, and he could feel his anger beginning to overcrowd his mind.

"Or what? Are you going to hit me too? Maybe I'll see you both court-martialed and you can finally spend quality time together in a prison cell."

The cargo bay doors opened and the security officer stood there with T'Pel. "Everything alright here, sirs?" said the officer looking from one man to the other. The officer had a faraway look in his eye.

T'Pel was gazing at Picard serenely, and he felt his mind immediately calm down. He didn't try to stop the Admiral again as Imhoff stalked in to the bay ahead of him. T'Pel took him aside. "Captain," she said quietly, "it is extremely important that you heed what I am about to tell you. My brother is exerting his influence over all who come into this cargo bay. The security officer here does not know it, but his casual attitude and lack of concern are being caused by Ra'Val. No matter what Imhoff says to you, you must not react in the way that feels most natural to you at that moment. Most importantly you must reject your aggressive feelings."

Picard blinked and nodded. He had been only half listening. He could not believe what Imhoff had told him. Beverly hadn't said anything to him. Had she been hurt? She had looked well, but her feelings were often a mystery. At least physically she had appeared unharmed and clearly she had gotten the better end of the deal, considering Imhoff's rather severe injury. He smiled slightly. She was a person of many hidden strengths and abilities. Unconsciously, he touched the bridge of his own nose.

* * *

Focusing on clearing his mind, he stepped into the bay and walked over to the generator. He checked the strength of the beam being projected from the generator. It was only at eighty-eight percent of what it should be, yet the generator itself was at full-power. Was Ra'Val himself be weakening the beam from within the energy bubble? He played around with the controls, and was able to bump the beam up to ninety-two percent.

Stepping away, he looked at Imhoff, who had moved closer to Ra'Val and was staring up at the motionless Vulcan as though enraptured. "Admiral," said Picard warily. He hesitated to walk closer to join the Admiral, remembering what T'Pel had said. "The field strength is weakening."

"Let's get the engineers in here to fix it," said Imhoff.

"Yes sir," said Picard. "But it will be a temporary fix, I am afraid. The only way to keep the crew safe is to get Ra'Val off of this ship."

Imhoff's eyes turned a cloudy grey color. "You first," he said darkly.

"Pardon me?" asked Picard, confused.

"I want to see you leave the ship first, Picard. Right out of the airlock. And this time when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it," he said, and then ran, full force toward the Captain.

Picard leapt out of the way and rolled, coming to his feet just in time to see Imhoff running toward him again. This time, Picard tried to duck, but Imhoff threw an arm across his chest, slamming him to the deck. He must have been under the influence of Ra'Val, because the strength of the man was suddenly superhuman. Picard jumped to his feet and touched the back of his head, feeling a cut at the base of his skull. He shook his head dizzily and looked around for Imhoff.

To his surprise, Imhoff seemed frozen in mid-run at him. His expression was as determined as ever, but he wasn't moving. Picard looked around and saw that T'Pel stood behind him and that her eyes were fixed on Imhoff. It was apparently she who was holding him fast. Suddenly, as though a marionette Imhoff went limp. Picard shouted at the security officer who was finally running to his aid. "Restrain him," breathed Picard. "And then take him to the brig."

* * *

**Hello, this was a long chapter, I know, but there was a lot to get in there. Anyway, hope you are still enjoying this story. Please stay tuned for the last few chapters and if you want to share your thoughts, please review. Peace out. -PP**


	6. Chapter 6

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**The Vulcan High Council**

Delegate Stahl stood on his office veranda staring out and up at the spectacle above. He and the other members of the Council were quite secure in their belief that they were well protected from the Andorian ships. Immense phased defense cannons fired up through the thin Vulcan atmosphere, answering the energy beams discharged by the Andorian battle cruisers. Distantly he could perceive tiny dart-like fighters skimming the stratosphere. The pilots of the Vulcan fleet were very adept, and he had no doubt that they would successfully defend their home world. But as he considered the other looming threat, the one few spoke of, his mind grew restless, causing him to look up again, and he no longer felt so secure.

* * *

**Enterprise**

Later that night, after the incident in cargo bay 4, Captain Picard sat in his quarters after having communicated with Starfleet Command. Admiral Imhoff had spent not even an hour in the brig, before a posh looking ambassador's shuttle arrived for him. When he left, he had to be carried aboard the shuttle, and really, the man did not look well. He didn't seem to even recognize Picard as he left, fixing him with a faraway expression. It seemed, that Picard's removal from command, the sham of an inquiry into his handling of Ra'Val had all been "an unfortunate mistake" according to Vice Admiral Nechayev, and he was summarily restored to command, with no further explanation, and no ceremony, which was fine with him. Admiral Nechayev also assured him that there would be no "further interference" with his command of the _Enterprise_, which certainly was what he had wanted to hear.

So much had happened in the last 24 hours that the whole series of events now seemed like a blur. He was careful not to jostle his head too much, as his head wound was making him feel woozy. T'Pel and Counselor Troi had met with him briefly to make sure he was free from Ra'Val's influence. At least, he was as free as anyone could be on this ship at this very moment, with a telepathic madman on board.

He had been astonished at the abilities he had witnessed T'Pel display. She was so different in most respects to the person he had known all those years ago. But most significantly, whatever training she had endured to complete Kolinahr had given her abilities far superior to anything he would have ever thought Vulcans were capable of. But then he had never met a Vulcan who had achieved Kolinahr. He wondered if there was some genetic anomaly T'Pel and her brother shared, which caused them to have natural telekinetic and telepathic abilities which were superior to other Vulcans. Perhaps she had always been gifted in this way, and he had simply never known. Regardless of the source of her power, he found himself feeling glad, once more, to have T'Pel on their side.

Both Troi and T'Pel had recommended that he go to sick bay for examination, but he brushed them off. The truth was that he did want to go and see Beverly, very much so, but not so that she could fix up his wound. And he certainly was not interested in seeing the ER doctor. So he stayed in his quarters, had a shower and then went to bed.

While attempting to fall asleep he wondered why Commander Zatha had decided to go against her principles and fire on the Vulcan defense ships. He was disappointed, but could not say that he was surprised. He simply did not know Zatha well enough to have many expectations of her. And now, he thought it unlikely that he would have a chance to speak to her again on good terms, if she was now allied with General Thran.

* * *

**The next morning…**

Walker Keel's astonished face filled the computer screen in the Captain's ready room. "What the hell happened over there last night, Jean-Luc? The admirals at Starfleet Command are going out of their collective minds trying to figure this one out. Did Imhoff really lose it?"

Picard tapped his fingers on the desk. "T'Pel and Counselor Troi seem to think that his hatred of me was enhanced and deliberately twisted by Ra'Val. There is no doubt that Imhoff hated me, but Ra'Val seemed to have taken the old grudges Imhoff was holding against me and amplified them. When Imhoff first came aboard, he met us in the cargo bay, where Ra'Val has been located, and he announced that he was removing me from command for the foreseeable future. Ra'Val must have seized upon that as a way of gradually removing me from as a threat to his control of the _Enterprise_ until he could take me out of the picture more permanently."

"What do you mean?"

"Imhoff tried to kill me last night; or rather Ra'Val tried to use Imhoff to kill me."

"I see that he failed miserably," said Walker drolly. "In all seriousness, though Jean-Luc, you seem willing to let Imhoff off the hook easily enough," his friend remarked. "After all, if he hadn't been so irrationally upset with you in the first place, he wouldn't have made himself so vulnerable to influence. He is at least _partly_ to blame for this."

Picard shrugged. "As far as I am concerned my crew is safer now that Imhoff is off my ship. And I have my command back, no questions asked."

"About damn time," said Walker. "You said he's off ship and you didn't say anything about shoving him out of the airlock, so where is he now?"

Picard made a face, not quite sure if he found the situation as amusing as his old friend seemed to. His splitting headache didn't help. He gingerly touched the back of his head, where Imhoff had slammed him against the deck. "Starfleet sent a shuttle to pick him up, Walker, and brought him to the nearest star base. I couldn't very well leave him in the brig, could I?"

Walker broke into a slow smile. "But I bet it felt good, sending him there for as long as it lasted, didn't it?"

Picard could not help but match Walker's smile, but he said nothing. "So what are your orders, Walker?" he asked, growing serious again.

"Same as your orders, Jean-Luc. The _Horatio_ has been ordered to stay out of the line of fire until a diplomatic window opens up—assuming that one does. The emphasis has been placed on not taking sides."

Picard glanced away, as the door to his office chimed. "Walker I've got to go. Let's keep each other informed of any developments." Walker nodded and the screen went black, just as the door chimed again.

* * *

"Come," he called out, and stood up.

It was Beverly Crusher. He took in a sharp breath, which lately seemed to be the norm when he saw her. As usual, she was stunning just dressed in her professional clothes, but she did not look happy; specifically, she appeared worried and angry. Seeing her demeanor, he slowly sat back down. After last night's incident with Imhoff, he was uninterested in confrontation. But interested or not, here she was.

She stormed in and sat down across from him, and slapped a hypo spray on his desk. She put her medical kit down on the desk next to it and opened it up and glared at him. He realized that the neutral expression he was trying to convey was not moving the conversation forward. "Doctor, can I help you?"

"Yes, Captain, you_ can_ help me," she snapped. "You can tell me why you didn't report to sickbay after sustaining an injury to your head last night. I had to hear about it from T'Pel, who informed me you slammed the back of your head on the steel deck. Do you realize that you could have died last night in your sleep? Oh, you are incredibly irresponsible…"

"Now, Doctor-"he protested.

"And completely stubborn," she finished, filling the hypo spray.

He suddenly felt his own anger rise to the surface. "And when were _you_ going to tell me about your confrontation with Imhoff?"

Shocked by his question, Beverly grew pale. "How did you find out about that?"

He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, wincing slightly as the back of his head tapped the headrest on his chair. "You had no intentions of telling me, did you?" he said with a tight smile. "What if he had tried to attack you again; what if his behavior had escalated?" He sighed loudly and got up and began pacing the room.

"I can take care of myself," she said quietly.

"Oh, that much is clear. I'm quite impressed you were able to disable him so efficiently and perhaps he deserved even more than what you dealt him. But you see, he was under the influence of Ra'Val, and as your commanding officer, it would have been the _appropriate_ thing for you to tell me what had happened, Doctor."

She stood up to face him, looking him in the eye. "You weren't even in command at the time, what would you have done?"

"I would rather not say what I would have done, what I could have done, had I known that he threatened you in any way," he said with quiet intensity. She flushed involuntarily, highly aware that she was touched by what he just said, and slightly embarrassed that she was.

"That's very comforting to hear you say," she said honestly and without thinking, moved closer to him.

"I don't need to be in command to care what happens to the members of my crew," he assured her. The subtle change in her expression instantly told him he had uttered the wrong words.

She stared at him and took a step back. "Your crew? Is that why you were so worried? So if Data or Geordi had been in the same situation—"

"No," he interrupted gruffly. "That was not what I meant." She watched him closely. He was struggling with something.

"I'm listening, Jean-Luc," she said almost daring him. "Tell me what you really meant to say." She felt her heart begin to beat faster in anticipation of what she wished he would say and also for what she hoped he would not say.

He looked away, looked down, and finally shook his head. "I can't," he muttered, looking back up at her. She felt a wave of disappointment move through her. One day before she had shown her own feelings, albeit physically, by kissing him passionately, and this was all he had to give? He had certainly seemed to enjoy it at the time, but now she really could not be sure. And to think she had openly ogled him in his shorts just last night. The very thought made her completely embarrassed now. Beverly suddenly wanted to slap him; not break his nose, but slap him across the face just to make a point.

Instead she reached up with the hypo spray, and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Turn around please," said and he obliged. "Let me see what happened here," she said softly. She felt another wave of irritation as she examined the cut. He had a giant knot on the back of his head right at the base of his skull. "Ow," he grumbled, when she poked at the cut.

She sighed in exasperation. "Did you even clean this, Jean-Luc?" Was he that afraid to be alone with her that he couldn't even come and get properly treated in sick bay?

"Yes, I took a shower afterwards. I couldn't really see it in the bathroom mirror, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding…." She rolled her eyes, not caring whether he could see her or not.

She held the back of his neck gently and used a cleaning agent. "Hold still while I stitch it up. You can't continue to walk around with a gaping open wound on the back of your head. Do you know that people used to die of infections because of small wounds like this?"

"Hmm," was his only response. The derma-repair tool tickled and burned slightly, but it took no more than a few seconds to do the job.

The more she stared at the back of his head, the more her anger came back. Finally finished, she stepped away from him and began to pack her tools away. "In the future Captain, please consider that people can still die of infections in the mid- 24th century if they fail to use common sense and visit their doctors," she said sharply, snapping the med kit shut.

She walked as fast as she could to the door, but she heard his footsteps coming behind her.

"Beverly, I am sorry," he said, stepping between her and the exit. "Please wait." His voice was commanding, but his eyes actually seemed to be pleading with her.

"Why?" she said frostily, turning halfway to face him. She was surprised when he grasped her free hand in both of his. To her further astonishment, he brought her hand up to his cheek and kissed her palm softly, watching her expression. She sucked in a breath and stepped backwards still holding her med kit loosely in her right hand. He stepped closer to her and suddenly they were pressed against the wall with no room between them. "What are you doing?" she said trying to catch her breath.

"I have no idea," he said, just as breathlessly, and then kissed her roughly. She immediately responded by grabbing him behind his shoulder blade and pulling him toward her. He heard her drop the med kit, and felt it land on his foot. His eyes widened in surprise, but in truth he felt no pain. "Sorry," she mumbled apologetically, quickly pulling away for a moment. He muttered something unintelligible about how it didn't matter, and they resumed what they had been doing, stopping only occasionally to breathe. Their hands moved with a mutual urgency, and it wasn't until they began to tug at one another's clothing that they realized that things were perhaps moving too fast for the Captain's office.

"Counselor Troi to Captain Picard," Troi's voice emitted from his communicator. Picard moved away from Beverly reluctantly, but didn't break eye contact. Beverly smoothed out her lab coat and touched her mouth self-consciously. She glanced down behind her and for the first time noticed that there was a fish tank built into the wall, the very wall she had been mindlessly moving against moments before. _How bizarre_, she thought, and laughed, reaching down to pick up the med kit.

Picard stooped down quickly, "please allow me," he said, grabbing it and handing it to her. "Thank you," she said, still looking at him tenderly. "Um," she prompted and pointed at his communicator.

He looked surprised. He had forgotten already that Troi had called him. "Picard here," he said. "My apologies for the delay, Counselor," he said. "I was…delayed," he winced at how inane his own words sounded.

Troi's response was immediate. "Perfectly understandable, Captain…when you have a few minutes, could I speak with you in my office?"

"Yes," he said tersely. "I'll be there shortly." His expression softened again when he regarded Crusher. "I'm sorry, Beverly, but I must be going," he said with a small smile. He turned to leave, but she stopped him gently.

"Don't you think I should leave first? It is your office after all. Or we could leave together…what would look less suspicious?"

Picard nodded. "It's probably best if you go first." He touched the back of his head lightly. "Thank you, it feels so much better already," he said.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear "I'm sure it does," before leaving.

* * *

Riker, smiled and nodded at Doctor Crusher as she stepped out of the ready room and headed for the turbo lift. He could not help but notice that she seemed pretty happy and had a spring in her step she hadn't had when she practically kicked down the Captain's door about 20 minutes earlier. "Must have been some house call," he muttered under his breath.


	7. Chapter 7

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 7**

**On board the **_**Striker**_

"Guard, come here," she demanded from her cell. Zatha could tell that he was afraid of her. No doubt he wondered how long it would be until the tables were turned and she was out of this cell and once again in a position of power. Would she show him mercy? Perhaps all of these things were floating through the guard's head, or perhaps she was just imagining the scent of fear in the air.

"Guard!" she shouted again. Slowly he inched his way over to her, hand placed securely on his weapon in case she decided to try and jump through the force-field barrier.

"What do you want, prisoner?" He demanded.

"I want a favor from you," said Zatha.

The guard started to smile as though such an idea was almost humorous but then seemed to think better of it, and scowled.

"What kind of favor?" he said gruffly.

"I want to know whether there have been any subspace communications sent from this ship since we arrived here at Vulcan."

"You mean by General Thran? What's in it for me?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"To begin with, when I get out of here, I won't kill you. And if there is anyone else left alive, I'll make you part of my bridge crew."

The guard seemed to consider her offer. At the moment, she did not even have a ship. And for all he knew she was scheduled for immediate execution once they returned home. On the other hand, he had been in line for a promotion for some time now but nothing ever seemed to come his way. This could beat going through the usual channels…then again he could end up being killed personally by General Thran. "What if they find out I agreed to help you?" he questioned warily.

Zatha's antennae pointed straight up as she looked at him slyly. "If I were you I wouldn't let them find out."

* * *

_**USS Enterprise**_

"Captain, thank you for coming," said Troi, walking to the door of her office to meet him. She touched his arm lightly and beckoned him in. "Please sit down", she said in a welcoming tone and gestured for him to sit. She sat down and continued to look up at him with a polite expression as he continued to stand stiffly.

As Captain Picard looked around, he noticed her office was now decorated somewhat luxuriously. He supposed many people who visited here _presumably her patients_, he thought, were quite comforted by the soft colors and low lighting, and he conceded that this was in fact the purpose of such decoration. Picard on the other hand was used to the stark environment of space travel and really needed very little now to make him comfortable. He realized with some surprise that he had perhaps become accustomed to discomfort, which seemed to suggest that discomfort for him had somehow become...comfortable. _How very strange, _he thought_._ He sighed and slowly sat down in a chair, sitting very straight.

Now sitting across from Counselor Troi, she watched him expectantly. He tapped his fingers on his thighs. _What is she waiting for? She is the one who asked me here, and I haven't a thing to say_, he thought. He could not help but notice that she was wearing another of her low-cut, one-piece uniforms that had been no doubt turning heads around the ship. He also noticed that she looked even more exotically beautiful in the low light. He shifted his gaze. Noticing her beauty made him uneasy, because he didn't want her to think he was gawking at her. _Don't stare_, he actually chided himself. Of course he respected her as a professional person, even if he still had some difficulty reconciling her role in the crew as of yet.

What began to make him even more uncomfortable was that he began to think about Beverly, how she smelled, how she felt… he could feel his chest and neck growing hot, and then he was entirely uncomfortable. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms over his chest. "It's a bit warm in here, isn't it?" he mentioned, leaning back in his chair.

Troi looked surprised at this suggestion. "I'm fine, Captain," she said. "But if you would like me to adjust the environmental controls—"

"No," he said abruptly. "Look. Counselor, why did you ask me here?"

"To talk…Captain, I must say, you seem very distracted."

"I _am_ distracted Counselor, I need to return to my work on the bridge as soon as possible."

"Oh. Well, I apologize for interrupting your work, sir," she said with a slight smile. Did she know what he had actually been doing when she had called him? It hadn't exactly been work. He shifted in his seat. "Aside from being busy with the duties that come with being the captain of a starship, how are you feeling sir?"

"Quite well," he said stiffly. She smiled at him serenely. He stared back at her and a few silent moments passed. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he asked, beginning to feel annoyed.

"Well, Captain… in the last 72 hours or so you have escaped death several times, you have been put through the psychological wringer along with the rest of the crew, you had your command taken away and then restored, and now..."

"Now…what?"

"Now I would like to know how you feel about all of it."

"I'm not at all accustomed to discussing my _feelings_, counselor."

"You say 'feelings' as though it is an obscene word," she laughed.

He shook his head. "There is nothing particularly wrong with having feelings, Counselor. I simply said that I am not accustomed to discussing them."

"With counselors?"

"With anyone," he clarified.

She paused, not sure if the conversation could get any worse. "Well, that sounds very convenient for you, Captain, but it is my job to ask these questions. It is also my job to ensure the psychological welfare of this crew. Arguably, your psychological well-being is the most important of all the crew, since you are our leader. So would you do me the favor of breaking with your custom for a few minutes?"

He glared at her and it seemed to her that he was considering his options. For a moment she wondered if he would walk out of her office. But then, he inhaled sharply through his nose and said "Yes."

"Thank you, Captain," she said feeling somewhat relieved. She leaned forward to regard him with a soft smile. "Now. How do you feel now that Admiral Imhoff has left the ship?" she asked, studying his face carefully.

He rubbed his hands on his knees. "Relieved," he said. "…now that I can return to my duties."

She straightened. "I see," she said. "It was difficult for you, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said seriously.

"Well, you didn't agree with the decision to remove you from command, did you?"

"No, of course not," he snapped. "But one just doesn't…complain about such things."

"You mean you personally wouldn't complain?" she said. "Why not?"

"Well there are times to question an order, and other times to simply do what is asked of you."

Deanna Troi's face registered faint surprise. "Even if you disagree, and feel the order is unjust?"

"Yes," said Picard. "I expect my crew to carry out orders every day that they may or may not agree with. Why should I be any different?"

"And yet there are times when you think it perfectly acceptable for one of your subordinates to question or disobey an order that they reasonably consider to be unjust?"

He paused, but then nodded slowly. "Yes, depending on the circumstances, of course."

Troi smiled. "For someone with your reputation, that is a very refreshing answer, Captain," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "And that reputation would be…"

"Have you ever seen your psych profile?"

"I assumed one had been created somewhere within the recesses of my personnel file, but no," he said. _What game was she playing?_

She took a data pad from the table next to her. "Here are some of the words used to describe you by Starfleet psychologists over the years, Captain, and I hope you won't be offended…"exacting, inflexible, over confident, arrogant, bold, resourceful, cold…shall I go on?"

Picard glared at her. "Counselor, surely they aren't all negative attributes."

"No, certainly not," admitted Troi. "But do you believe they accurately describe you? Do you believe you are an arrogant man?"

He laughed, but there was little humor in it. "I don't know Counselor. I am what I am, I suppose. I try not to be a difficult person, but no doubt I still am. You should consider however, that several of those psych evaluations were completed after…well, after traumatic experiences."

"Ah…in which you were suffering from trauma," she stated as though she were confirming something he had just admitted.

His eyes flashed with anger. "That is not what I said," he said stiffening visibly.

Troi's expression remained serene. "Captain, if they were not your traumatic experiences, then whose were they?"

_She's trying to get into my head. _"Several…deaths have occurred under my command, and even before I had my own command I experienced the death of colleagues, and then I lost the _Stargazer_…I suppose I was questioned after each of those incidents as per protocol. What I said during any of those interviews I don't recall."

_What an incredibly evasive answer_, thought Troi. "Captain is it that you don't want to give me the perception that you are weak, or were you really that unaffected by the deaths of your colleagues, and the loss of your ship?"

Picard glowered. "What an insulting thing to say," he snapped.

"Which part?" said Troi.

"To suggest that I am unaffected by these things is completely outrageous."

"I agree," said Troi. "And in my opinion, you _were_ highly affected and deeply traumatized by these events and yet you give the appearance of having not been. Why is that?"

He continued to stare at her, but something subtle in his expression changed. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I suppose I don't believe it is anyone's business to know how I feel," he said.

"So, we are back there again. You might find your attitude about feelings difficult to maintain once you embark on a new relationship, Captain."

He swallowed. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, fearing he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I am talking about your changing relationship with Beverly Crusher," she said gently. His immediate, yet silent reaction to her statement was palpable. _And another barrier has been raised,_ she thought. _He thinks it is none of my business but he is not surprised that I know. _"Captain, I only raise the issue, because I can see that it is troubling you." To her surprise his reaction held some amusement, inwardly of course. Apparently grappling with this issue was not new for him.

"I can assure you, Counselor, that Beverly Crusher does not trouble me," he said calmly.

"But your strong feelings for her do trouble you." Troi did a mental double-take at his non-verbal reaction. _He has always had these feelings for her._

He sighed and looked at her as though really seeing her for the first time."Counselor, I wish that I could remember a time when I did not feel troubled by these feelings."

_Thank you for finally being honest._ "Have you discussed your feelings with Beverly? Perhaps she would understand," she suggested.

"Perhaps she would not," he said obstinately.

"Don't you think that half a lifetime of waiting has made it worth the risk of finding out, Captain?"

* * *

_**The Striker**_

Zatha woke up from a brief nap. The guard had returned…

"There have been no communications from this ship aside from one call to the_ Ishran_ when you were still in command and one after you had been deposed."

"No incoming or outgoing transmissions from the High Command?"

"No, Commander- I mean prisoner..."

"Very well," said Zatha. "Your efforts and loyalty will not go unrewarded," she said. "As long as I am not executed before you," she added.

She wondered if he understood the importance of this information. If General Thran had not been regularly communicating with the High Command then he had gone rogue—he had no authorization to do what he was doing, which she assumed by now was escalating the assault on Vulcan. "Now…one more favor," she announced, and the guard's antennae drooped dramatically. "I need you to send a message to a friend of mine."

* * *

**Chapter 8 is now posted as well, so thanks for your reads and reviews! -PP**


	8. Chapter 8

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 8**

"Captain the fighting is getting closer," said Riker, as Picard walked onto the bridge. "No sign of any let up, sir."

Picard nodded and sat down in the command chair fluidly. "Move us to within 15,000 meters of the _Ishran_," he said. "It is time to put a stop to this foolishness. _If we can_, he thought. Ahead full impulse power, shields up."

"Shields up sir," confirmed Yar.

"ETA in five, four, three, two, one Captain," said LaForge. "Fifteen thousand meters, Captain."

"All stop," said Picard.

"Aye sir," said LaForge, as the ship slowed to a stop.

Riker eyed Picard. "What now, sir?"

"Hail the Andorians."

"They're ignoring our hails sir", said Yar.

Picard stood up and walked forward toward the view screen. "Send a message to Commander Zatha: 'The time has come to listen to your conscience'."

"Yes sir, transmitting" said Yar, trying to keep the puzzled tone from her voice.

The flurry of phaser fire continued without interruption. A group of Vulcan fighters made a run at one of the lead cruisers only to be incinerated in multiple flashes of light, save for one tiny ship which was caught on one wing by a searing beam. Instead of exploding, the fighter spun away and came careening crazily toward the _Enterprise_.

"He's about to be toasted by our shields, Captain," called out LaForge.

"Does that little fighter have any shields?" shouted Riker.

"None active, sir," replied Yar quickly.

"Transporter room, stand by to beam the Vulcan pilot directly to the main sickbay," ordered Picard calmly. "Doctor Crusher. You have an incoming casualty," warned Picard.

"We'll be ready, Captain," her voice sounded.

"Captain, he's now in transporter range," said Worf.

"O'Brien do you have a lock on him?" shouted Riker.

"As good as it's gonna be, Commander," pronounced O'Brien's voice from the intercom.

"Energize," said Picard. A moment later, the fighter slammed into the shields and was destroyed instantly. There was no need to ask for a damage report; any harm to the shields would have been negligible. For a few moments everyone held their breath until Picard finally spoke. "Do we have him?"

Crusher's angry and horrified voice on the other end of the communications link made the situation clear. "We have what is left of him, Captain... Crusher out…"

* * *

"Hail them again," Picard said quietly, his expression now solemn. _Damn them._

Without warning, the battle displayed on the view screen was replaced abruptly by the interior of an Andorian ship, the _Ishran_ to be exact. But the officer who appeared on screen was completely unfamiliar to Picard. "Captain Picard," sneered the Andorian. "I am Commander Hakka. To whose conscience are you trying to appeal with your cryptic transmissions?"

"Where is Commander Zatha?" Picard demanded.

"She is…no longer available."

Picard carefully kept his expression neutral, but his mind had been racing since he first noticed that Zatha was nowhere to be seen. "The message was meant for her, but as I see you are now in command, I appeal to you to use some sense."

"Your appeals are of no use to me," said Hakka.

"Hasn't this gone on long enough? What is it you intend to accomplish?"

"That is not your concern."

"If you intend to destroy the foundation of the Federation, it certainly is my concern," snapped Picard. "And just like me you have sworn to uphold the principles of the Federation, which include non-aggression, Commander. Where are those principles now?"

"I am an Andorian first, and a member of the Federation second. We must protect our home world."

Picard shook his head. It was impossible to argue against such a warped view of what constituted protecting one's homeland. Instead he tried a different approach. "Commander Hakka, I invite you to meet aboard my ship to discuss these matters. Let me reach out to the Vulcans, and perhaps we can arrange a cease fire."

Hakka frowned. "I do not have the authority to arrange such a meeting. You must speak to the General."

Picard nodded. "Then can you speak to General Thran and have him call me on a secure channel in two hours?"

Hakka's antennae swiveled back and forth. "I can make no guarantees, but I will pass along your message," he said coldly, before his image disappeared.

Picard shifted in his chair. "Mr. LaForge please bring us to within transporter range of Vulcan, but keep the _Enterprise_ as far away from the fight as possible."

"Aye sir," said Geordi.

Picard got up and swiftly strode toward the turbo lift. Riker stood and watched him. "Number One, you have the bridge," he said as the doors slid shut.

* * *

Crusher glanced up from her conversation when she saw Picard enter sickbay. She put a hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Thank you, Alyssa, please carry on," she said softly. The nurse nodded and then walked quickly away. Crusher straightened slightly as Picard approached.

"Captain," she greeted him with a brief smile, which faded when she remembered why he had come. He was here to view the body of the Vulcan pilot who had arrived minutes ago. She could hardly believe she was seeing him again under such trying circumstances, so soon after being with him in his ready room during those exhilarating few moments. But the mood had turned and now been substituted for one of solemnity. He nodded grimly at her, but said nothing. Realizing there was nothing to say, she gestured for him to follow her.

As they walked wordlessly together down a short brightly-lit corridor adjacent to sick bay, she could not help but recall being in a similar hallway with him ten years ago. She wondered if he often thought of that day and how Jack had looked pale, cold and alone in the star base morgue. She hoped that he did not still think about it. She rarely did. What a cruel day it had been for all of them.

Crusher stopped and quickly typed a code into the wall, and the door to the morgue slid open. Picard shivered involuntarily, and stepped inside. He stood still as Beverly walked to a metal examining table and then turned back to regard him before lifting the white sheet. "Captain, I know you have seen this kind of thing before, but…"

"I've never grown used to it," he said in a muted voice, as he moved to stand next to her. She pulled the sheet back as reverently as possible to reveal the pilot, but the sight was almost unrecognizable as a former person. Bile immediately rose in his throat and he tried not to gag. He placed his palm on the table, just to steady himself and immediately felt Beverly's hand on the small of his back, attempting to soothe him. He straightened, embarrassed.

"To put it simply, his body was soaked in radiation, Captain. We had to put it through decontamination just to make it safe for observation. But as you can see, Jean-Luc, his body was nearly liquefied by the phaser beam. Just as strangely, it also contained large amounts of trilithium ore, which accounts for the high levels of radiation."

"Damn it!" Picard suddenly felt a rage well up within him, and he looked around for something inanimate to strike. Nothing appeared safe to hit, however, and Beverly was still watching him cautiously. He exhaled raggedly, working to get his emotions in check. "I've seen enough," he said in a low voice. She nodded and replaced the sheet.

They exited the morgue together and then stood talking quietly in the hall. Picard stared blankly at a spot just over Crusher's shoulder. "I apologize for my reaction in there, Beverly."

Beverly smiled compassionately and ran her hand lightly down the outside of his arm. "Jean-Luc, if you had no reaction at all to such a horrific thing, I might be a bit concerned about you. Besides, your secret is safe with me," she added, laughing. He caught her hand as it reached his fingers, and he held on to it tightly, not sure what to do next. She grew serious and held his gaze intensely for a few moments.

"I think we should talk," he said hesitantly, Troi's words irritatingly fresh in his mind.

She looked down at her hand in his and then smiled at him. "Alright," she said, and then stepped a bit closer to him. "When?" She asked, looking into his eyes. He sighed. He simply could not think properly when she was this close to him.

"Soon," he said, feeling slightly disoriented by her nearness. "There are some things that I have been meaning to—to tell you…."

Beverly was still floored by the revelation that he apparently wanted to _talk._ She tried to hide her shock and growing amusement. "Oh…well, I am looking forward to this conversation Jean-Luc—"

"Lt. Yar to Captain Picard," Yar's clipped tones sounded through his communicator.

Picard and Crusher looked at each other with mutual aggravation. They were quickly learning that there was to be no privacy on this ship. "Go ahead," said Picard.

"You are receiving a private message on a secure channel, Captain. It keeps repeating in a loop, sir."

"Understood," he said. "I'll view it in my quarters. Thank you, Lieutenant." He looked apologetically at the Doctor.

She shrugged, and they walked back into the main sickbay together before parting ways.

* * *

Once in the privacy of his quarters, Picard stood at his personal desk and frowned at the simple sentence displayed across his computer screen. He read the message several times. _**"Thran is operating without authority from the High Command."**_ The origin of the message was listed as "unknown". It was not coming from any official channel, and he could only assume that at the very least it meant Zatha was still alive, although based on Hakka's words she was hardly safe. He felt heartened by the content and purpose of the message, however, because it also meant she was still on his side.

* * *

An hour later Picard had somehow convinced a Vulcan council member to come aboard to discuss a possible cease fire. They now sat together in one of the smaller conference rooms. "Delegate Stahl, I want to thank you for agreeing to beam aboard." Stahl nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing. "I would like to see representatives from Vulcan and Andoria sit down and discuss the possibility of peace," he continued. Stahl said nothing. Picard sat forward, palms flat on the table. "It would seem that a conversation about this subject is overdue," he said. Still his words were met with silence. "So…perhaps if you would tell me your terms—"

"Our terms are of course, simple, Captain. The Andorians will cease their aggression, leave our territory and we will in turn cease any further relations with them."

"While I understand the reasoning behind your terms, sir, the concept of no contact between two of the founding cultures of the Federation is nearly unthinkable."

"No, Captain. What is unthinkable is that the Andorians could launch such a savage attack on my people. It is highly illogical that we would simply agree to resume relations as normal."

"You are correct, of course," said Picard quietly. "While the Andorians were perfectly right to seek justice for their murdered colonists, I have seen no evidence to connect Ra'Val's actions to the Vulcan government or people."

"You have seen no such evidence, because there is none," said Stahl.

Picard tapped the tabletop absently. "What if I were to tell you that General Thran and the other Andorian ships in orbit around Vulcan are not here with permission of the Andorian government?"

Stahl looked at him as though he had two heads. "I would ask you where you obtained such information," said Stahl.

"I have a reliable source inside the Andorian fleet. Thran is on silent running right now, which means his superiors may not know that he has launched an attack on Vulcan."

"And you believe that if they did know they would call off the attack," said Stahl. Picard nodded and then told him what he knew about Delta Vega. When he was finished, Stahl brought his fingertips together and stared out the viewport. "The draw of trilithium ore on the planet Delta Vega is why the High Council ordered it sealed it off all those years ago. It is no surprise that thieves and arms dealers would continue to be interested. It is another example of how uncontrolled emotion continues to threaten peace in this sector."

Picard said nothing. "One such as myself can appreciate a human who seems to understand the problems this lack of controlled emotion causes," Stahl added, fixing Picard with an exacting stare. _A_ _Vulcan compliment,_ thought Picard dryly. _What would Counselor Troi say to that, I wonder?_ Stahl pulled out a tiny tablet and began to type. "I am transmitting this information to the other members if the Council, Captain. We will contact the Andorian government at once."

Picard looked at him. "General Thran commands the lead ship, the _Striker_. What if you were to send a few ships to Delta Vega?" he suggested. "You might distract General Thran to leave orbit in order to protect what he really came here for, and in so doing, weaken the assault on your home world."

"A curious idea, Picard," said Stahl. "But we cannot leave Vulcan with minimal defenses. We have already seen an unnecessary loss of life." Stahl looked at him closely. "You retrieved one of our pilots recently?"

Picard lowered his head. "Yes, Delegate Stahl, but I am afraid he did not survive."

Stahl did not seem surprised. "Were there signs that he was exposed to high levels of radiation?"

Picard nodded. "My chief medical officer confirmed that his body held traces of trilithium."

Stahl's face was completely impassive. "We have seen the same in our dead and wounded. Those wounded by the modified phaser beams do not survive long. Clearly General Thran has decided to test some of his illegal trilithium weaponry on the Vulcan people. "

Even though Stahl displayed no outward emotion, Picard suddenly felt a great sense of sadness for the Vulcan people. "I pledge to you that I will do whatever needs to be done to defend Vulcan," said Picard resolutely.

Stahl stood up smoothly. "It gratifies me to hear you speak those words, Captain." He paused. "Now I have something else to ask of you, Captain Picard, and it is imperative that you agree to my wishes."

Picard's brow furrowed. "I'm listening," he said.

"I must see the criminal before I return to Vulcan…where is Ra'Val?"

* * *

**A few minutes later... **

"Jean-Luc we were given clear orders not to take sides," warned Walker Keel, after Picard explained his idea of traveling to Delta Vega to try and draw General Thran's away from Vulcan.

"That was before we learned Thran is completely operating on his own, Walker. He must have found a way to keep his superiors in the dark. That means there is only one side to take; that of defending Vulcan."

Walker seemed to consider his words briefly and then nodded. "So…Zatha is out of power but still calling some shots. Impressive. She reminds me of you a little bit, Jean-Luc…slightly better looking than you of course," added Walker.

"Of course," echoed Picard drolly. "Now Walker, let's be serious here…"

"It's simple," said Walker. "I will take the _Horatio_ to Delta Vega and carry out your plan, while you stay here with the _Enterprise_ and defend Vulcan."

Picard nodded and a slow smile spread across his face. "Always a pleasure working with you, Captain Keel."

"Jean-Luc, you are ever the sweet talker. I'll see you on the other side."

* * *

When Picard stepped out into the hallway, Delegate Stahl was waiting for him. Something made him hesitate, before tapping his communicator. "T'Pel, Doctor Crusher, and Commander Data, please meet me in cargo bay 4 in ten minutes." He turned to Stahl, and his trepidation only seemed to grow. "Let's go," he said.

* * *

**Hello, hope you are enjoying this story. It is nearly finished, and then I may move on to something else. I appreciate your reading and reviewing, if so inclined. -PP**


	9. Chapter 9

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 9**

* * *

"General, one of the star ships is leaving orbit," the helmsman alerted him. General Thran sat forward in his command chair with interest. He was so high up that he could not help but look down on his entire bridge crew. And that was what he preferred.

'Is it the _Enterprise_?"

"No, sir. The…_Horatio_," said the helmsman.

"Track the ship's flight pattern," Thran ordered. "See if you can predict its course."

"The ship appears to be heading out of the sector, General."

They all watched the ship slowly crawl away. Suddenly, it went into warp and disappeared with a flash. "Let me know where it—"

"General the ship has just reappeared on our sensors. It is in orbit around a small ice planet, sir."

Thran stood up quickly. "Which planet?" he demanded.

"The planet is known as…Delta Vega, sir."

Thran began to breathe more heavily than seemed necessary to the _Striker's_ bridge crew. "Find that ship," he bellowed.

"But sir, are we authorized to leave Vulcan?"

The helmsman watched as the General's coloring turned about three shades darker. His jowly face seemed to shiver slightly. "We are authorized to do anything I say we must do. Now intercept that ship!" he roared furiously.

Only one person could have been responsible for discovering his motivation and releasing this knowledge to Starfleet. The traitor! He would kill Zatha with his bare hands, but not before claiming his property on Delta Vega.

* * *

Data, Doctor Crusher, and T'Pel stood waiting outside cargo bay 4. Apart from Beverly occasionally shifting from foot to foot with her med kit clasped in front of her, they stood in silence. As she had been when Data and Crusher had arrived a few minutes earlier, T'Pel stood with her head down and her hands clasped in front of her. She appeared to be meditating and wore her hood pulled down over her eyes.

T'Pel had recently been fitted with a new cybernetic arm, and for some reason had chosen not to finish it with synthetic skin. The result was a dangerous looking robotic metal forearm and hand protruding from a simple brown Vulcan cloak. It was an arresting, yet somehow comforting sight for Crusher, who was in no way looking forward to entering the dreaded cargo bay once more, certainly not alone. At least with Data and T'Pel, she didn't feel quite as vulnerable. The question still remained, though, what were they doing here? Captain Picard had called them a few minutes ago, but he hadn't elaborated. In Crusher's experience, that was not a good sign.

Data was the first to turn and notice as the Captain and a rather small, but imposing Vulcan approached the group. Picard and the man halted in front of them. Picard quickly introduced Delegate Stahl to his officers and apparently he already knew T'Pel. To Picard's surprise, Stahl hardly looked at T'Pel, but what was conveyed was decidedly unfriendly, even for a Vulcan. T'Pel for her part merely removed her hood and stood calmly.

"Delegate Stahl has requested to see Ra'Val prior to returning to Vulcan," said Picard. Based on our recent difficulties handling Ra'Val while in his cell, I want to take precautions. Commander Data, I need you to monitor the field strength and ensure that it does not fail while we are in there. Doctor Crusher, you are to administer a sedative and monitor Ra'Val's vital signs. T'Pel, please do your best to counter Ra'Val should he…" he trailed off, because he wasn't entirely sure what it was she had done last time to protect him from Imhoff, and to thwart her brother's attempts to kill him, but she had.

"I understand, Captain," said T'Pel.

When the bay doors opened, the cargo bay was dimly lit, save for the eerie blue light projecting from Ra'Val's energy field prison cell. Picard stepped inside. "Lights, 40 percent," he said and the light increased significantly. Their collective gaze fell on the still, huddled, naked figure inside the floating energy bubble. Data immediately walked to the generator and began checking the controls.

Data turned to Picard, who was standing behind him expectantly. "The shield strength is holding at 95 percent Captain."

Picard nodded. "Good," he murmured. Beverly moved past him and took out the sedative agent from her med kit. Quickly measuring the amount, she grabbed the thin tube which ran along the length of the floor, the other end of which was floating inside the energy cell. She injected the sedative. They all watched Ra'Val's form intently, and conscious of every twitch of his muscle. But he remained still.

That was when Stahl rushed forward quickly toward Ra'Val. Alarmed, Picard rushed forward to try and stop Stahl. He heard Beverly shout for him to wait. He felt Crusher grab his arm in an attempt at pulling him out of the way. But she needn't have done so. Suddenly his feet were stuck in place and he could not move forward, try as he might. T'Pel was holding a forbidding hand out in his direction. He realized now that she was trying to protect him by stopping him from moving any closer to Ra'Val. Realizing her good intentions, he stopped resisting, and she gradually let him go. He grew still, standing next to Beverly and Data.

Almost immediately, events unfolded very quickly. Stahl stepped in front of Ra'Val's floating prison cell before T'Pel could stop him. She seemed to understand his intent even before he pulled out the object and pointed it a Ra'Val's huddled form. Picard stared at the innocuous looking object in Stahl's grip and recognized it as the data pad the Vulcan had used to transmit information to the High Council while in Picard's office earlier. But now, he had it pointed at Ra'Val as though it were a weapon.

Judging by T'Pel's reaction, it was. T'Pel began shouting phrases in Vulcan that he did not understand as she rushed toward Stahl. Stahl swiftly turned on her and leveled the weapon at her head.

"Do you know what this is, T'Pel?" he asked as she halted before him.

"Yes," she said staring from the weapon and back to Stahl. T'Pel had a look in her eye that was as desperate as Picard had ever seen her convey, and in that moment she could have been the most desperate Vulcan who had ever lived.

"Then you know how it works," Stahl said slowly. "Now calm your mind and tell your compatriots to calm _their_ minds; or you will all perish along with your brother."

Reluctantly T'Pel took a step backward. "He is correct," she called out to Picard and Beverly. "He is holding a psionic resonator. It magnifies emotion; especially negative emotion, and turns it against the aggressor. You must quiet your minds and eliminate fear and anger," she said still peering warily at the object in Stahl's hand.

Picard could tell T'Pel was still considering leaping upon the man to disarm him, but instead she stood very still. Picard was shocked by the level of loyalty she was apparently still compelled to show her brother, an admitted murderer.

Picard glanced at Beverly and Data who in turn looked at him, but he had no idea what to do aside from following T'Pel's instructions. Of course for Data calming his mind was not an issue, but he turned to Beverly. "Try and block the fear as much as you can," he said trying to sound as confident as possible.

Crusher licked her lips nervously and nodded silently, staring with apprehension at the scene in front of them. Suddenly she gasped and he followed her gaze to see that RaVal was now waking up. His coiled body loosened, and straightened as much as possible inside the cramped globe of energy. His arms raised, palms upward. He was now facing Stahl who continued to hold the odd weapon at the ready.

Picard suddenly had the urge to get his people out of there. "Let's get out of here," he said in a low voice. He grabbed Crusher's hand and turned toward the cargo bay doors, but was again frozen in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Beverly was also unable to move.

"What is happening?" she whispered, still gripping his hand tightly. He could feel her fear increase and mix with his own. With great effort, Picard twisted his head to look toward Ra'Val and with horror saw that Ra'Val had turned and was watching them with a penetrating stare. He felt that familiar hold on his mind, and now knew why they were unable to move.

"Data, run!" yelled Picard. "Tell Riker…" Data did run; he ran faster than Picard had ever seen anyone run. But then as quickly as Ra'Val shifted his focus to the android, Data was lifted off of the floor and tossed through the air as though he were weightless. He hit the bulkhead with such a force that when he slid to the floor, apparently unconscious, there was a noticeable indentation in the wall.

* * *

"The High Council's fortification is taking direct fire, now Commander," said Yar. "The _Ishran_ used its main cannon to weaken the outer defense shield."

"How many civilians are within the fortification?" asked Riker.

"Mostly all civilians sir," responded Worf, sitting at ops. He looked up from the information streaming in front of him. "The computer estimates ten thousand individuals inside the outer Council city walls."

"The High Council is not a military body," said Troi. "If the Council is destroyed the Vulcans will literally have no governing body left. Some of Vulcan's greatest minds are located in that small city."

Riker rubbed his chin. Captain Picard had authorized him to use force if necessary. With the _Ishran_ and other Andorian battleships continuing to escalate the assault on Vulcan, there seemed to be few options left.

"Increase power to the forward shields," said Riker, getting up from his seat. "Heading 241 Mark 6," he said. "Ahead full impulse."

"Aye sir," said Geordi. "On that heading we will intercept the_ Ishran_ in fifteen seconds, sir."

Riker walked up near tactical and leaned his hand on the railing next to Lt. Yar. "Everyone hold tight. We'll make a pass over the top of the _Ishran _and as we approach I want steady phaser fire across the bow."

As the ship skated quickly toward the Andorian ship, the Enterprise was rocked by incoming fire. "Steady," said Riker, grabbing the railing. "Fire," he said firmly.

"Phasers firing, sir," said Yar. "The Andorian's shields are damaged but holding, sir," she reported.

"Minor damage to our forward shields, Commander," said Worf.

Riker raised his hand. "On my mark, fire aft photon torpedoes. Target the main phaser cannon."

"Fire," he shouted again.

"Got it, sir," Yar exclaimed. "The main phaser cannon is down."

"Good," Riker said grinning and turned around to look at Troi. She allowed him a small smile, which faded as the ship was rocked again. _Shit_, thought Riker.

"We are taking heavy fire, Commander," said Worf. "The Andorians are in pursuit."

* * *

"If you intend to kill me, Stahl then I will give you one chance to do so," said Ra'Val. He made no attempt to break from his cell. It seemed clear that he did not need to be outside of his cell to cause havoc. His voice seemed to vibrate through the entire cargo bay and surround everyone. It was a captivating, frightening voice. It was in fact the first time that Picard had heard him speak, that is, outside the confines of the dreams and visions in which Ra'Val had visited him.

Picard dimly realized that he was still holding Beverly's hand. He felt the hold on his mind and body loosen gradually as though he were inside Ra'Val's relaxing fist. Perhaps even Ra'Val could not be everywhere at once. _Think again, Captain, _he heard Ra'Val's voice in his mind, and was spun into the air, landing with a thud on the deck. Disoriented, he struggled to his feet, with assistance from Beverly. "Jean-Luc, try not to think about anything," she said, pulling him to his feet.

They watched helplessly as Stahl held the psionic device steady with two hands and pointed it at Ra'Val. The device began to emit a humming noise that reverberated up through their feet and into their throats, resulting in a vibrating sensation in their skulls. Picard and Beverly shut their eyes tightly as the sensation grew unbearable.

Crusher fell to the deck, and rolled into a ball hugging her knees to her chest. Picard dropped as well, and crawled to her side with an agonizing slowness. Tears streamed silently down the sides of her face, and she opened and closed her fists against her body. She turned from side to side almost frantically. "Beverly please don't be frightened," he murmured, gritting his teeth and feeling the pressure between his ears and inside his skull increasing. He felt as though his body was beginning to feel the intense pull of gravity against the deck, but he knew it was either the psionic resonator, Ra'Val's power, or an oppressive combination of both.

Jean-Luc crawled next to Beverly and pulled her close to him. She buried her face in his shoulder and groaned from discomfort. Feeling the pressure inside his own skull increase he clasped his palms over her ears in a feeble attempt to try and protect her. She unclenched her hands long enough to wrap her arms around his torso and squeeze him tightly. Jean-Luc felt warm liquid running from his ears and nose, and saw red droplets fall almost dreamily to the deck, and spatter. _Are we dying?_

Beverly gripped him tighter and began to speak to him. He had no idea what she was saying, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to keep talking so that they would be able to stay alive. Her arms jerked once, when the screams of Stahl echoed over and over as his body was ripped into millions of particles. They didn't have to ask themselves what had just happened. The painful pressure in their ears began to lessen and normal sound and thought crept back into their minds. Picard pulled his hands away from Beverly's ears and stroked her hair gently, as she began to sob into his chest. _I love you_, he thought, before consciousness left him.

* * *

**Hi everyone, thanks for all of your awesome reviews. Makes it very fun to continue writing...have a great week. -PP**


	10. Chapter 10

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 10**

Coming out of the mist of unconsciousness, Picard watched through half-closed eyes as Data walked joltingly over to the field generator. It was easy to see that the android had been damaged but he appeared to be functional. He saw Data fiddling with the generator and supposed that he was checking the field strength.

Picard looked down at Beverly Crusher, who lay in his arms. She was still unconscious, but her breathing had normalized and she looked almost peaceful. "Beverly," he said gently taking her wrist in his hand. Her pulse seemed strong. "Beverly," he said again in a stronger voice, putting his hand upon her shoulder and pressing lightly. He didn't want to alarm her, considering what they had all just been through, and he was also hesitant to touch her, particularly as she slept. It seemed almost an intrusion to be watching her while she was sleeping, let alone touching her. He wasn't used to being physically connected to anyone; and to be close to the person he had longed to be next to for so long was nearly overwhelming.

Tentatively he touched her face with his index finger and her eyes fluttered open. She coughed, and then covered her face with her hands. He moved back, still crouching down and helped her to sit up. She blinked, and looked at him, her forehead creasing with concern. "Jean-Luc, you look like hell," she said, her voice sounding hoarse and scratchy.

He laughed and draped her arm over his shoulder, helping her to her feet. He marveled at how light she was. She swayed unsteadily into him, grasping at his bicep. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm dizzy…need to sit down," she said.

"It's alright," he said. "We are all going to be alright," he said, trying to smile encouragingly as they walked slowly over to the wall. She sat down slowly with her back to the wall and gradually he let go of her hands. "Thank you," she said quietly, sinking down to the floor.

As he watched her his smile faded as he remembered his last thoughts as he had fallen unconscious. He suddenly felt unexplainable relief that he hadn't said the words to her out loud; words he had never admitted to himself before. But in any case, he could not deny that they had now been said, even if only in his own head. It occurred to him that he might still lack the courage to say them out loud. She was studying his face, and something in her expression made him withdraw. He could tell that she noticed this, and he saw his own questions and uncertainty mirrored in her gaze. Feeling an uncomfortable vulnerability begin to creep in, he gave her a quick smile and then turned away.

Picard rose shakily to his feet and immediately looked for RaVal expecting him to have escaped. But no, there he was, once again curled in a fetal position inside the sphere. He felt something white hot begin to bubble inside his brain. Picard walked toward the still figure, too angry now to be frightened. They had been tortured and nearly killed. What else could he possibly do to them?

"Jean-Luc, what are you doing? Get away from there," Beverly warned.

Her voice seemed almost too distant for him to heed. Picard moved closer to the sphere and peered into it. Ra'Val's eyes were closed and a satisfied smiled curled the corners of his mouth. As he stared at Ra'Val he grew angrier, and he perceived that the Vulcan's smile became wider. Picard's rage suddenly took control of him and he lashed out at the sphere furiously with his fist. The impact with the field caused his arm to jump back violently and it instantly turned numb. Crying out in frustration he spun away clutching his useless arm to his body.

Data walked forward and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Captain, I must caution you not to repeat that action, sir. You could permanently lose the use of your arm."

Picard turned to look at Data and now that they were standing close to one another, for the first time he noticed that one side of Data's head had been severely battered from the impact of being thrown against the bulkhead by Ra'Val. Picard must have looked shocked, for Data said, "I am alright, sir."

"Good." Picard nodded. "I'm sorry, Data, I don't know what came over me," he said, shaking his limp arm.

"I do," said Beverly still sitting propped up against the cargo bay wall. "Don't you see, Jean-Luc? Ra'Val is still controlling our minds. As long as he remains on this ship, _we_ are the prisoners, not him."

She was right, and for the first time since they discovered Ra'Val was on board the _Enterprise_, he considered simply beaming him into space. Why hadn't he done so before, he wondered to himself. Movement caught his eye, and he realized that for a few moments he had forgotten about T'Pel.

He walked toward T'Pel, who was crouching down on the deck, but was awake and seemed alert. "Are you harmed?" he asked, crouching down next to her.

She shook her head. "I am well…considering the circumstances." She studied his face.

"You are uncertain whether you can continue to trust me," she observed.

Picard looked into her eyes incredulously. "T'Pel, what happened? Is Delegate Stahl…"

"He is dead," T'Pel confirmed. "His attempt to assassinate Ra'Val was…unwise. Stahl perished much as I assume the Andorian colonists did. If there is any trace of him to be found, we will not be able to easily detect it."

"Did you try to prevent him from killing Ra'Val?"

T'Pel slowly got to her feet. "I prevented nothing," she said simply. "You and Beverly are alive because you both stayed calm. You protected each other," she added fixing him with a meaningful gaze. "Stahl's use of a psionic device made it impossible to predict what was to happen. The device is intended to use the negative feelings of an aggressive opponent against him. The problem for Stahl was that despite his outward appearances he was fearful of Ra'Val and wanted him dead. Ra'Val, on the other hand has evolved his power to the extent that he can create, absorb or deflect any kind of emotion he wishes. The only one at risk of assassination was Stahl."

Picard looked at her earnestly. "T'Pel, I need to know where you stand with regard to your brother. More importantly, I need to know how to rid ourselves of him once and for all. He is like a disease aboard my ship."

"If I knew how to solve the problem that is my brother, do you think I would keep this information from you, Jean-Luc?"

Picard sighed and glanced over at Beverly. Her eyes were shut as though she were resting, but he could tell that she was trying to listen to the conversation. "T'Pel, you know I have never questioned your loyalty to me or to anyone on this ship. But what are we to do? There must be something I can do to get him off of my ship. If you know his intentions, please tell me."

"He does not intend to stay here much longer," said T'Pel. Looking up into the sphere. "When he leaves, his first goal will be the destruction of the Council. After that, his plans are unclear to me."

"What is he waiting for?"

T'Pel frowned. "Perhaps an opening of some sort. A weakness in the defensive systems surrounding the Council." She trailed off, staring off into the distance.

He searched her face. "You intend to try and stop him, don't you?" he said quietly. "Even if it means you will die."

"Yes," she said simply.

"T'Pel, you must know that I cannot just stand by and watch you go willingly to your death. I will do whatever I can to save you."

"As you did so many years ago, Jean-Luc," she reminded him. "But even you cannot control my fate. If I am meant to die in this way, you will have to learn to let me go."

* * *

Walker was waiting. He sat forward in his command chair, hand propped up his chin as though he were bored. But this wasn't the case; he was simply thinking about how events might unfold. He considered the best case scenario, and the worst case scenario, and everything in between. This was how he preferred to enter into any new situation, but the reality of life aboard a starship usually precluded the opportunity for leisurely contemplation. But given the recent turn of events in which he had volunteered to set a trap for General Thran, he could more or less predict what would happen next. So he wasn't surprised when his tactical officer alerted him of an incoming ship. What he didn't predict was that it would be an unidentifiable ship.

"Incoming ship, sir. Orion markings, sir," Lt. Yarborough said, sounding appropriately alarmed by this news. "We should assume that they are hostile, Captain," she added.

_No kidding_, he thought. The words "Orion" and "hostile" were practically synonyms in his vocabulary. Walker stood up, considering the situation. He ran a hand through his silver hair. If the Orions were here it was likely because they either expected someone to pay them for some questionable service they had just provided, or they had come to take something from Delta Vega, which they believed would enhance their wealth. It seemed odd that Orions would show up at a mining planet. Orions were not known for mining, but if the ore had already been refined, it was possible they would be interested in confiscating some of it.  
The Orion ship slowly glided into orbit around Delta Vega. It now hung motionless in space facing the _Horatio_ menacingly.

"Shouldn't we hail them?" Grot, the _Horatio's_ Bolian communications officer was, like most Bolians, always willing to offer his opinion, whether Walker asked for it or not. Usually his opinion was that Walker should hail a ship, or open a new communications channel, which made sense, in that he was the communications officer. Usually Walker agreed with Grot, but this was not one of those occasions.

When in these situations, Walker often wondered what Jean-Luc would do. Most likely he would hail the pirates and emphatically ask them their purpose for entering orbit. But he wasn't Jean Luc, and frankly he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know their business here. "No, not yet," said Walker. "By the looks of them they don't have anything particularly friendly to say to us," he said, sitting back down.

Walker looked over his shoulder at Yarborough. "Shields up," he said almost as an afterthought. It was good timing, for the view screen suddenly erupted with zigzagging green energy beams.

"Orions are firing, Captain."

"Evasive action," shouted Walker, gripping the arms of his chair as the bridge shook. The ship lurched and rolled as it shot up and out of range of the pirates' weapons.

"We've taken damage," shouted Yarborough. "They're using modified weapons, Captain. Shields at 65 percent."

"Modified how?" Walker yelled over the computer announcing a hull breach on deck ten.

"Sensors show trilithium enhanced phaser beams, Captain," said Yarborough. "Similar to those used during the Andorian assault on Vulcan."

"Son of a bitch," said Walker under his breath. "Bring us around behind them and fall into pursuit. See how they like it," he muttered. As the _Horatio_ swung around and targeted the pirates, Walker jumped to his feet again. "Fire!"

"Firing…direct hit to their portside engine, sir. Looks like we've disabled their navigation system, Captain." The Orion ship now drifted to one side as though unbalanced.

"They are hailing us, Captain," announced Grot.

"Of course, _now_ they're hailing us," Walker sighed and collapsed into his command chair. "Open a channel."

"Hailing frequencies open, Captain."

A static-filled image of a huge green-skinned pirate appeared on the screen. The giant gold ring in his nose was not even his most striking feature. "How much do you want for it?" the Orion snarled.

"What…the hell are you talking about?" Walker demanded to know.

"You won the shoot-out fair and square, now how much you want for the 'lith?" said the pirate, scrunching up his nose.

"'Lith' as in trilithium?" asked Walker, attempting to clarify the situation.

The pirate turned around to say something to one of his compatriots and then turned back around roaring with laughter. "If you don't even know what it is, maybe you won't mind if I take my crew down to the surface and bring the whole load up for free, you stupid Oot-bag," he said flexing a giant tattooed bicep.

Walker looked over at Grot."Oot-bag?" he mouthed in a silent question. Grot shrugged. How would he know that? He didn't speak Orion. Whatever it meant, it couldn't be good.

"Who are you calling stupid?" was all Walker could think of in response. "Anyway, once you grab the trilithium where do you plan on going with it? Your ship is dead in the water—so to speak."

"We can still shoot," the pirate grinned, revealing sharpened teeth. "Besides, once the General arrives in a few days, this planet will be his, and everyone on this no-good ship will be set for life."

"Oh, you know the General, do you?" asked Walker innocently.

The pirate looked surprised. "Yeah…are you in league with him too?"

Walker shook his head. "Not exactly. But I do know he's on his way here. And it won't be a few days either. More like a few…"

"Captain Keel, the Andorian battleship, _Striker_ has entered orbit around Delta Vega," reported Yarborough.

Walker clapped his hands together as if truly delighted. "Well, what do you know? Looks like General Thran has just arrived."

* * *

Picard strode on to the bridge feeling as though everything was out of his control. He was mostly right. As soon as he met Riker's eyes he knew that there had been a battle; and that somehow he had been unconscious for most of it, but that certainly did not mean it hadn't happened. Riker nodded curtly. The man appeared to have aged a few years; perhaps it was the dark growth of stubble on his cheeks that made him look a bit less baby-faced than he had just a few weeks earlier when they began this journey.

"Status," said Picard, moving to the Captain's chair and sitting down.

"We took some damage, Captain, but not before taking out the _Ishran's_ main phaser cannon. The one that was targeting the High Council, sir."

"Casualties?"

"Fifteen reported injuries, sir. None fatal sir."

"Good work, Number One," said Picard with a perfunctory nod. "Where is the_ Ishran_ now?"

"She's withdrawn to about 10,000 meters away, Captain. No doubt they are trying to re-group. As we are," Riker added.

"Are you quite alright yourself, Captain?" Picard glanced over at Troi and nodded. He touched under his nose, and remembered that just an hour ago his nose and even his ears had been bleeding down in the cargo bay. The blood had long dried up, but no doubt, he looked like hell, as Beverly had aptly pointed out.

He stood up. "Commander, let's go to yellow alert, and have the auxiliary bridge crew report for duty. I want everyone here to get some rest for at least 4 hours," he said. "And yes, Counselor, I am ordering the same for myself," he said walking to the turbo lift.

Troi looked at Riker and smiled. "I didn't even have to suggest it. Now _that_ is progress."

* * *

Beverly put two bowls of soup on the table and slid one in front of her son. He looked at her, and she could tell he wanted to pepper her with a series of questions, as was normal for him. But to Wesley's credit and perhaps some signs of a growing maturity, he simply watched her thoughtfully. She put a plate of thick bread in the middle of the table for them to share.

There was nothing like soup. It reminded her of her grandmother, and the warm smell of dinner cooking, keeping the damp fog of Caldos outside on an evening in late winter. She knew she had relied on soup over the years help soothe her after traumatic events, or sometimes just after a hard day. She sipped her soup and it occurred to her for the first time that soup had been her first meal after the death of her parents. How strange that the presence of Ra'Val should raise so many buried memories, some things she never wanted to recall again. She hoped that it would help her in the long run to think about these things, as painful as it was. She dipped a hunk of bread in her soup, and realized Wesley was staring at her. She sighed. "What's the matter Wes?"

He slurped his soup loudly, only slightly undermining the seriousness of her tone. "I was going to ask you the same thing, Mom. Are you okay? I mean, if you don't want to talk about it I understand-"

They both looked up as the door chimed. Beverly felt a wave of annoyance carry through her. She just wanted a quiet meal in peace, and a few hours rest, was that too much to ask? She dropped her napkin on the table and stood up with a loud sigh. "Come in," she said.

The door opened and there stood Captain Picard looking very awkward. "I was walking by and thought I smelled vegetable soup," he said.

_Likely story_, thought Crusher. But she was pleased to see him again. "Hello, Captain. Please come in and have a seat," she offered. He nodded gratefully and stepped in.

"Have a seat, I will get you a bowl."

He continued to stand stiffly as though he was reconsidering his visit. "I really don't mean to interrupt," he said hesitantly as though he almost wanted her to tell him to leave.

Beverly put an insistent hand on his shoulder. "Please sit," she said, pushing him down into an empty chair. He finally complied and pulled his chair up to the table.

"Hi sir." Wesley stopped eating long enough to notice that the Captain sat very formally. He resisted the urge to tell him to relax. He thought it best to leave ordering the Captain around to his mother, since she seemed to have no problem doing so.

"Thank you," Picard said, looking up as Beverly passed him a bowl of steaming soup and then sat down again herself. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he bent down and sniffed the aroma. He appeared visibly happy, for the first time all day.

"It's my grandmother's recipe," she said, not caring that she sounded proud.

"Smells wonderful," he said, beginning to eat quickly. Beverly had always found a good appetite attractive but she suddenly found she could not keep from looking at him. She recalled the incident in the cargo bay from just a few hours ago and felt an almost electric feeling of joy that they were still alive and enjoying something so simple together. She almost reached out to grab his hand but remembered Wesley was still there. Abruptly, as though he had just remembered something important, Wesley got up and left the table.

Beverly took the opportunity to take Jean-Luc's free hand and weave her fingers into his. He looked at her with mild surprise, but she could tell he was feeling the same thing. She broke into a spontaneous smile and then they both laughed quietly. Just as quickly, the self-consciousness returned and she pulled her hand away quickly as Wesley approached holding a rectangular object.

"Captain, look," said Wesley, shaking the box of cereal as though it were the most tantalizing object possible.

Picard raised his eyebrows. "Honey Nut…" he read the box hesitantly.

"Dessert!" announced Wesley, and flopped back down in his seat. Beverly slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and for your awesome reviews! Good night/ Happy Friday, -PP**


	11. Chapter 11

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 11**

"We have arrived at Delta Vega, Commander," the guard said, approaching Commander Zatha's cell. He lowered his voice. "And there are two ships waiting for us. A disabled pirate vessel, and a Starfleet ship, Ambassador Class," he said.

"Ah, the _Horatio_," said Zatha. _Picard must have received my message and sent his friend to intercept Thran._

"What are your orders, Commander?" asked the guard.

"Find me a suitable weapon," she said. "When I make my move I want something that works the first time."

"A blade or a gun?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter."

"And when exactly do you plan to make your move?" the guard asked, beginning to wonder if that would ever happen.

"Watch your tone," Zatha snapped. "When the time is right, I will let you know, and then you will set me free from this cage. How many do we have on our side?"

The guard shrugged. "Maybe ten," he said. "These are Thran's people, Commander, and they are loyal to him. Don't forget you left your crew behind on the _Ishran_."

"My _crew_ left _me_ behind," she spat. "Ten will have to be enough. Besides, at this point I will take whatever dimwitted losers I can get," she said. The guard's antennae drooped depressingly. "No offense," she added with a half-hearted apology.

* * *

Ensign Briggs hadn't checked on the prisoner for a while now. In fact Captain Picard had personally taken him aside and ordered Briggs specifically _not_ to check on the prisoner. Yet, for some reason, as Briggs now stood outside of the cargo bay doors he struggled to remember the Captain's words. _"Under no circumstances are you to..."_ He frowned, feeling his concentration beginning to falter again. _"Ensign, I want you to ensure that no one enters the cargo bay. Under no circumstances are you to enter the cargo bay except to prevent someone from entering." _

Wasn't that what he had said? Ensign Briggs shook his head wishing he could physically clear it somehow. He considered the ramifications of contacting Lt. Yar to confirm his orders. Ultimately he decided against it. She was very exacting and expected the Captain's orders to be carried out without question. If he called her to actually question what the order had been she would no doubt remove him from his post and maybe even kick him off of the regular duty roster. None of this solved his real problem, which was that he couldn't remember whether the Captain had wanted him to check on the prisoner, or not.

_There is only one thing to do_...he said to himself. Or was it really him at all? _Type in the security code._ _You remember that don't you Briggs?_ Obeying the voice in his thoughts, Briggs reached out and typed in the security password. He glanced around to make sure that the hallway was clear before stepping inside.

* * *

He didn't know why he hadn't left yet. Dinner was long over. He had spent about twenty minutes listening to Wesley explain the principles and mechanics of his latest project, a type 15 shuttle pod with proposed limited warp capability. The teenager had even disappeared into his room briefly and returned with a small mock-up of the shuttle pod.

There were more than a few reasons why Picard had never seriously studied engineering beyond the obligatory classes at the Academy. Still he patiently listened, arms folded. After all, Wesley had already proven himself as an inventor of useful devices. "Not to poke holes in your idea, Wesley because I think the concept is very good," he said picking up the model ship. "But the nacelles on the pod would have to be disproportionally large to power such a small ship." He turned the model in the air as though it were flying. "The type 7 shuttle craft we have aboard is larger, and has limited warp capability already. Why retro-fit this cargo craft with warp drive?" he asked, handing the shuttle craft back to Wesley.

"I was thinking it would be useful in escape situations mainly," said Wesley, obviously excited to have the opportunity to explain his idea. "You know… if you come upon a hostile vessel about to fire on you…and bam, you go to warp drive and you are gone."

Picard smiled slowly and scratched the back of his head. "Hmm. I _do_ know. Having flown a number of different vessels like this, and having also been fired on by a large number of hostile vessels I admit it would come in handy…"

Wesley nearly jumped out of his seat as something occurred to him. "What about fitting it with just one warp nacelle?"

Picard nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide his growing amusement at the boy's intensity. He shrugged slightly. "It might work…"

Eventually Wesley ran into some difficulty explaining where exactly to place the single nacelle on the craft, and abruptly left the table. He turned around before entering his room, as though he had forgotten anyone else was there. "Thanks for your help, sir. Now if you'll excuse me I have to figure this out." A moment later the door hissed shut as Wesley retreated to his room to work on fine tuning the design.

* * *

Picard watched him leave with raised eyebrows. "Is he always like this when he gets a new idea?" Picard turned to Beverly quizzically.

Beverly, who had been, lightly tapping at her data pad during Picard and Wesley's conversation, put it down with a decisive click and looked up. "Yes…" she said with a slight smile. "I learned a long time ago just to leave him to himself when he is like this. He will figure out the problem. In fact, he'll probably announce the solution tomorrow morning over breakfast."

"I am sorry I will miss that revelation," he said with amusement, and then looked away with some embarrassment realizing how odd that sounded.

Beverly laughed at the look on his face. "Meaning you won't be staying overnight?"

He regarded her with a shocked expression, which made her laugh again.

"I mean to work on building the shuttle craft," she said slapping him lightly on the forearm teasingly. She stretched as she stood up. "I am going to have some herbal tea. Would you like some?"

Jean-Luc hesitated. He didn't like herbal tea, but he didn't want to leave either. But then again, maybe it was time to leave….

"It's not a test, Captain…"

"Yes, please," he said, and stood up to stretch his stiff body as she moved across the room to the replicator.

She returned with two hot cups of tea, handing him one. Still standing she gestured to her living room area. "Want to sit down?" she walked away without waiting for his answer. He found it difficult not to watch her when she walked, she had such a presence. He wondered if she noticed he was looking at her legs, as she settled down on the couch, crossing one over the other gracefully.

He started to sit down in a soft chair across from her, but she patted the couch cushion next to her. It was almost an order. He complied, sitting down next to her slowly; not so close that he would be so completely distracted by her that he was unable to carry on a conversation. He brought the steaming cup of tea up to his face and inhaled. His nose wrinkled. Chamomile. He didn't care for it.

"Is there something wrong with the tea?" she asked wryly before sipping hers.

He smiled nervously. "No, I suppose I am just not a fan of herbal tea," he said setting it down on a small coffee table.

A slow smile spread across her face, and she turned to face him, bringing her left knee up on the couch. "I see, so you were just being polite when you said you wanted tea. I'm curious do you say many things you don't mean just to be polite, Jean-Luc?"

He stared at her, caught off guard. Was she insulting him? His mother had raised him to be very polite, and certainly he had heard the clipped phrase _"mind your manners"_ issue from his father's lips regularly as a child. He inhaled deeply and then sighed, hoping she was not in the mood to spar verbally. "No. I do say what I mean…" he insisted, trailing off and still not sure if he should be defensive or not.

She smiled. "Of course, when you are giving someone an order…but what about when you are talking with me?"

He picked up the tea and sipped it, managing not to grimace as he put it back down. "I'm talking with you right now…"

"Right. Just as you said you would earlier," she admitted. _Oh,_ _give him a break, Beverly_, she told herself.

"Hmm?" He turned, copying her posture so that he could face her.

She put down her tea and inched toward him on the couch. She put her hand on his knee. He jumped slightly, but she ignored it. "Jean-Luc, have you forgotten, that when we were in the hallway outside of sick bay you told me that you wanted to talk?" she asked softly.

He swallowed. _Oh right. _He shook his head. "No, of course I remember. Ah," he paused. "Well, Counselor Troi had encouraged me to discuss with you…something that has been on my mind," he looked at her, and she was waiting patiently, studying his face for clues. He fell silent. How could he admit to her something he hadn't been able to admit to himself for so long? He wasn't ready for this. He could feel his heart begin to race anxiously.

She could tell it was difficult for him. She removed her hand from his knee and propped her elbow on the back of the couch. "This…something…that has been on your mind. Does it have anything to do with what has been going on between us recently?" she prompted gently.

He nodded, trying to work up the courage. Why was it so difficult? He took a deep breath. "When I learned that you would be coming on board the Enterprise, I was very surprised to say the least. I knew that you must have applied for the position, and I honestly wondered if you knew I had been appointed Captain. I assumed that for years you must have hated me, because of my…responsibility for Jack's death."

She looked down momentarily but met his eyes again. "Jean-Luc, there was a time when part of me blamed you for Jack's death. But not anymore. Can you accept that?"

"I do believe you, Beverly, but it is hard for me to accept."

"Maybe because you continue to blame yourself, Jean-Luc. But if we are to ever move on with our lives you will have to trust that what I say is true."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know," he admitted. "But it is difficult for me to reconcile my memories of what used to be, with what is happening now…between you and I."

"I like what is happening between us now, don't you?" she asked. Her expression was open.

"Yes," he admitted, unable to prevent the smile from spreading across his face. But his smile faded. "It has just been unexpected," he added.

She reached out and touched his hand. "Jean-Luc. It has been unexpected for me too. I had no idea what to expect from you when I signed up to be CMO. You don't exactly let people in, you know. Even Jack and Walker used to talk about how difficult it could be to connect with you. They would make light of it, but I knew you were a mystery even to them."

He looked away at the mention of Jack again. She leaned in to re-engage with him and he forced himself to meet her gaze.

"You know, Jean-Luc, you're not the only one who has feelings of guilt. Jack and I…well just before he died, we were going through some difficult times. There were things that Jack and I should have tried to fix when we had each other, but we took it for granted that we had more time, and we allowed ourselves to drift apart. When he was killed, Jack and I were as far apart as we had ever been. It took me years to realize that at least some of the anger I had directed toward you after his death was really anger I felt toward myself—and even toward Jack. And then…there was the subject of you."

His brow creased. "What do you mean?"

Beverly flushed. _Jean-Luc how can you be so dense when it comes to me?_ She thought. She sighed. "Jean-Luc, there has always been something between us from the moment we met. You and I both know that." She looked at him searchingly. "If you have felt guilty for so many years because of our…connection, how do you think I have felt? I was the one married to Jack, and you were his best friend."

He watched her in wonder, and he couldn't believe that he had been so blind. For years he had selfishly believed that he was pining for someone who would never love him. He had always thought that Beverly and Jack's relationship was nearly indestructible, and he never wanted to be the person to test whether that was really true. He had been almost obsessed with her as though she were an object to be worshipped from afar; never to be touched.

But the truth was Beverly had suffered even more than he had, and had struggled with those same feelings over the years. The difference seemed to be that she had the courage to face those feelings some time ago, and now it was as if she was reaching out to him, asking and even challenging him to join her in moving past all of the old torment.

He looked down and then with effort met her eyes again. They were clear and blue and unafraid. "It's true," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "I care very deeply for you, Beverly. And I have felt this way a long, long time. Sometimes it feels like it has been forever…." He trailed off, unable to say anything further. She inhaled deeply and her eyes filled with tears as she reached for his hand. Gripping her hand, he moved closer to her and reached up with his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek.

* * *

The Andorians have renewed their assault on the Council building complex, Commander," reported Data, as Riker stepped on to the bridge. "The structural integrity of the main Council building has been severely compromised, sir."

Riker shook his head, and wondered if they needed to call Starfleet Command to request additional ships. "Where is Captain Picard?" asked Riker, as he switched places with Data, who had been in command of the bridge for the last several hours.

"Captain Picard is not due to report for duty for one hour and thirty-three minutes, Commander," said Data, moving to take over at ops.

Riker nodded. They were all operating on minimal sleep. He hoped that the Captain was resting. Given the re-escalating situation over Vulcan, he doubted that Picard would have much more down-time before another red alert sounded. For now, he would not disturb him.

* * *

Ensign Briggs moved into the cargo bay with purpose_. I see you, Briggs_, the prisoner seemed to be saying. But the prisoner was speaking from a place inside Briggs' head. The prisoner had turned his body to face Briggs, and his eyes were black and focused only on Briggs. The prisoner was smiling at him. _Thank you for checking on me, Briggs. Captain Picard wanted you to leave me alone, but that simply will not do. Come here, Briggs._

Briggs wanted nothing more than to comply. He walked obediently forward until he was underneath the energy field, staring up at the prisoner. Ra'Val leaned toward him and gazed into his eyes. _Now you must do something else for me, Briggs. You must go to the field generator and shut it down._ Briggs frowned. He didn't think Captain Picard would approve of him shutting down the field generator. Or would he? _Of course he wouldn't approve,_ said the voice. _He is a very small-minded man, Briggs. Someone_ _like Picard will never allow you to reach your full potential. But who is he? You are Briggs_.

Briggs felt an incredible swell of pride at that moment. Who was Picard to tell him, Briggs, what to do? _Now walk over to the field generator and turn it off. _Briggs walked to the field generator and peered down at it. A green blinking light told him that the generator was operating at full capacity. He searched for a way to shut it down, as he had been ordered to do. He had no idea how this thing worked. I can't do this, he said to himself. It requires a special code. "I can't do it!" he shouted to no one in particular. He turned and looked at the prisoner who continued to watch him with a placid smile. Briggs was frustrated. He couldn't turn the device off, but someone was telling him—_he_ was telling him over and over to shut it off.

Suddenly Briggs felt his arms and legs stiffen as though brought under the control of an unseen force. At first he resisted, but then it all became so clear. He knew how to do it. He just needed an object large enough to disrupt the field at is weakest, narrowest point, right there where it emanated from the generator. He looked around, but there were no objects to be found. _You'll do_, the voice said, and without warning his body was thrust forward flailing, into the energy beam. Ensign Briggs screamed. And as his body shook and burned inside the energy beam, even though he knew he was dying an excruciating death, part of him didn't really mind.

* * *

T'Pel's eyes snapped open in the darkness of her room. She had been meditating until the unmistakable intensity of his thoughts entered her mind. Somewhere on the ship, Ra'Val was free. She knew that her fate was now unfolding and she would move forward with its relentless stream whether she resisted or not. She rushed out of her quarters to confront the inevitable.

* * *

She had risen up on her knees balancing on the couch and leaned down toward him. Still sitting, he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently at first, and then more assertively when she responded by sighing into his mouth. She danced her tongue against his teeth and their kiss grew deeper. He moved his hand up and under her top, and their breathing grew faster. He slid his hand along the smooth skin of her stomach, and up around her back to trace her bra. Slipping his fingers underneath, he moved his palm back around to her front and felt the soft flesh of her breast. She gasped and wildly thrust her hand up under his loose shirt digging her fingers into his chest. She moved around to his front as they continued to kiss, and inserted her knee between his legs leaning into the kiss. A low sound emanated from his throat, and he ran his hands up her back, unfastening her bra. The sound of their own breathing was all they heard until…"Mom?"

Beverly was off him as if powered by a bolt of lightning, and was standing, fixing her shirt quickly. "Is Captain Picard still here? I want to show him something." Wesley walked around the corner, model ship in his hand. "Oh," he said, looking from his mother to Picard and back again.

Beverly laughed nervously and smoothed her hair. Picard was still sitting, and tried to fix his expression as neutrally as possible, but saw that Wesley was staring at him in apparent horror. Picard quickly grabbed the teacup from the table, and held it self-consciously over his lap, silently wishing that the teacup was a little bigger.

It was then that they were saved again, so to speak, by the sound and ruby flashes of the red alert. "**Unauthorized shuttle launch, unauthorized shuttle launch,**" droned the ship's computer. "Security personnel report to Shuttle Bay One," sounded Yar's voice. "Captain Picard to the bridge."

* * *

**Updating, updating...I am a chapter updating machine...thanks for reading and reviewing, and hope you enjoy! -PP**


	12. Chapter 12

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"The shuttle hasn't launched yet, Captain, there might still be time to stop it," announced Riker as Captain Picard stepped on to the bridge.

The computer continued to drone on about the unauthorized shuttle launch. "Turn that damn noise off," Picard snapped, moving to the command area.

"The outer bay doors have been opened sir," said Riker, walking toward the Captain.

"By whom?" Picard asked.

"Not by anyone authorized to do so, Captain," answered Data.

"That doesn't answer my question, Data," answered Picard tersely. "Computer who is in the shuttle bay one?"

"One humanoid, non-Starfleet, is inside shuttle craft Mercury 2," said the computer." Launch procedures have commenced but are unauthorized," the computer added.

"So you've mentioned," Picard muttered. "Get us a visual on cargo bay 4," he said. The view screen snapped on, and the cargo bay was completely empty. The energy field that had been holding Ra'Val prisoner, was simply gone. "Ra'Val is in that shuttle," said Picard firmly.

"Engage the outer force field outside the shuttle bay doors," said Riker.

"The force field is inoperative," reported the computer.

"Explain," snapped Riker.

"The reason for the malfunction is unknown, sir," said Data from his station.

Picard walked forward, and put a hand on the back of Data's chair. "Data, can you get the force field back up and running from here?"

"I will attempt to do so, Captain," Data said, his hands moving so fast they were a blur over the control panel.

* * *

As T'Pel ran quickly through the corridors toward the shuttle bay, she passed numerous unconscious crewmen who had no doubt been subdued by Ra'Val. There was no time to stop and determine if they could be helped. The red alert had sounded, and she reasoned that Lt' Yar's security teams would find the crew members and ensure they received medical attention. If she hadn't already known where her brother was headed, she could have simply followed his trail of inert bodies and overturned objects all the way to the shuttle bay.

Lt. Yar and three security officers were already there when she arrived. She halted abruptly, and then walked slowly toward the shuttle bay doors. Yar walked to intercept her almost casually, and put a friendly, but no-nonsense hand on her shoulder. "You can't go in there, T'Pel, the bay doors are open and there is no force field to protect us from space. It's not safe." Yar dropped her hand, and then stepped back, cautiously eyeing her.

Quickly and without emotion, T'Pel considered her options. She sized up the officers, and knew Yar, despite her slender frame, was the most formidable of all of them. In less than a moment she made her decision.

"There are wounded crewmen back there," T'Pel nodded back in the direction in which she had come. At that moment Lt. Yar reacted by turning away to look down the hallway and T'Pel quickly gripped the base of her neck in a nerve pinch. The woman immediately dropped to the deck unconscious.

One security officer rushed to Yar's aid, but the remaining team converged on T'Pel to try and stop her. With her robotic arm she deflected a blow from the first, a large man, and he cried out in pain, staggering backwards clutching his broken arm.

The second officer tried to tackle her around her midsection and she quickly stepped aside and reached down to grip the woman in a nerve pinch, causing her to slump over unconscious.

T'Pel turned just as the remaining guard fired a phaser set to stun at her a crouching position. She raised her cybernetic arm to defend, and the beam grazed it. She fell to the floor and rolled toward the guard, grabbing the phaser and crushing it in her grip. With the other hand she palmed the guard's face. "I do not want to hurt you...but I will if I must," she said. He froze wide-eyed_. Sleep_, she thought. His brown eyes rolled upward in his head and he sunk back to the floor almost peacefully.

T'Pel stood up and shook her metallic arm, examining it briefly. The nerve connectivity in this new arm had not properly fused yet, and as a result the stun setting had been less taxing on her than it should have been. She moved toward the shuttle bay door, but it did not open. She did not try to force it open with her cybernetic arm. There was only so much damage she wanted to intentionally cause it; robotic or not, it was still attached to her mortal body.

She glanced at the door panel. It was secured by a temporary security code, which of course she did not have. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the minds of the unconscious officers, but could read nothing specific from them.

She turned to look at Lt. Yar and hesitated. From the time she was a child, she had been taught that engaging in a mind meld should be a consensual act. Anything less than the mutually agreed sharing of minds was considered a violation in Vulcan society. But she did not have time to observe all ethical considerations, and there were other reasons, perhaps selfish reasons, why she made the decision she did.

She crouched down and placed her thumb and index finger lightly on Yar's face. The meld would not be as powerful without Yar's active participation, but T'Pel pushed her concerns aside. The woman was still unconscious, and thankfully remained so. "My thoughts are your thoughts," said T'Pel quietly. After about thirty seconds, the meld was complete and she sighed and stood up. She quickly dragged Yar and her officers a safe distance away from the doors. Almost as a second thought she turned back and bending down, grasped Yar's communicator, and snapped it off of her uniform.

Moving toward the shuttle bay doors again, Lt. Yar's thoughts drifted to her about the force field being inoperative. T'Pel began deep breathing exercises, taking in as much air as possible. She knew she would have little time before she was blown out into the vacuum of space. Preparing herself she easily input the security code as though she had always known it; or at least for as long as Yar had known it.

* * *

The doors opened, and she was immediately sucked in and toward the open shuttle bay doors. As she spun in mid-air she caught a glimpse of the exiting shuttle, which she knew her brother was piloting. Quickly passing a railing in mid-air, she swung her arm out and caught it with a strong grip. The sound of metal clanging on metal was drowned out by the rushing in her ears. She could feel her skin beginning to freeze and her vision began to blur. Holding her breath she felt as though her lungs would explode. As she looked between her floating legs, she dimly saw the shape of a craft. It was between her and the shuttle bay doors. Closing her eyes, she let go of the railing, and the next sensation she felt was her body slam against the side of the craft, crushing her right knee.

She struggled blindly until she was able to open the hatch, and climbed inside. She slammed the hatch shut and the satisfying sound of the changing air pressure confirmed that she was safe inside the ship. She blinked through burning watery eyes and saw that she was not inside a Starfleet shuttle, but rather it was the Andorian Commander Zatha's personal shuttle.

T'Pel had been out of Starfleet for over ten years, and the need to fly anything more than a personal hovercraft over the surface of Vulcan certainly had not often presented itself during these last years. But Lt. Yar did know how to fly, and was apparently a skilled pilot. Focusing on Yar's knowledge, she slid into the pilot's chair, and powered up the vessel.

* * *

"The Shuttle Mercury 2 has exited the shuttle bay, Captain," announced Data. "It has engaged its shields, sir."

Picard swore under his breath. "What is his heading?"

"The pilot has a course set for Vulcan," said Geordi. "Should we intercept—"

"Look!" Riker practically jumped out of his seat and pointed at the view screen. With all eyes fixed on the forward view screen, the image of a second tiny ship suddenly appeared, chasing the Mercury.

"Confirming a second launch from the shuttle bay, Captain," said Data calmly.

Picard pressed his lips together tightly. "T'Pel," he said softly.

Riker strode forward and leaned over Data at ops. "Initiate the forward tractor beam…"

Picard stood back, T'Pel's voice echoed through his head. _You will have to learn to let me go…. _"Belay that order," said Picard quietly, rubbing his chin, still staring at the screen.

Reddening, Riker whipped his head around to regard the Captain. "Your orders sir? Aren't we going to fall into pursuit?"

Picard fixed him with quiet resolve. "No," he said turning around and walking back to his chair. As he sat down he added, "The Mercury 2 has no weapons," he said. "However, if Ra'Val's shuttle gets within 1000 meters of the Council's defense perimeter, you are authorized to fire on the shuttle with intent to destroy it."

* * *

Wesley Crusher stared at the hologram of his shuttle craft project. His eyes widened involuntarily as another more unsettling image entered his mind, and he tried to blink it away. The red alert had now been reduced to a yellow alert, but he, like the other civilian crew members had been ordered to remain in quarters until further notice. Of course by now it was 11:30 at night and he had no plans to leave his room for a while if he could help it. Yes, there was a crisis on the ship, but more recently there had been a near crisis of a more personal nature taking place in his living quarters.

His mother had exited hastily for sickbay, as she was required to do during a red alert, and of course Captain Picard had been summoned to the bridge at the same time. Meanwhile, poor Wesley had been left alone with his thoughts. The fact was that he was probably less embarrassed than his mother and Captain Picard were, but the situation was still awkward.

He guessed that his mother's embarrassment would fade sooner than later; that was just the way she was. Wesley had been raised with what he liked to think was a healthy attitude about sex, and this was largely due to his mother's often embarrassingly direct approach to the discussion of sex. Certainly, being a doctor, his mother had no shortage of information on the subject, and as a doctor she was practical and not bothered by these things. This didn't mean that Wesley wasn't a little mortified by the whole situation, after all it was his _mother_ after all…but he knew he would get over it, and soon.

The Captain on the other hand...well from Wesley's perspective if anyone had found him like he had found Captain Picard on his mother's couch, well… Wesley might not have ever recovered from the humiliation. After all he was fourteen now, and things like that came up both unexpectedly and often. He couldn't say how the Captain must have felt, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Anyway, maybe these kinds of events affected you less when you grew older; at least he hoped so.

He recalled that he had told his mother recently that he wanted her to be happy and that she should not worry about his feelings, if she was considering dating someone. He had meant what he said. At the time, he had just blurted it out, but the more he thought about it, he remembered that during that conversation they had been discussing, among other things, Captain Picard. He had seen the way his mother sometimes looked at the Captain, and if seeing Captain Picard made her happy, Wesley could not argue with that. Hadn't she seen enough sorrow in her life?

In any case, Wesley knew he would have some difficulty looking the Captain in the eye the next time he saw him...then again he considered that maybe looking him in the eye was the best course action from here on in.

* * *

"Data, status report on the shuttle craft?"

"The Mercury 2 will enter the upper stratosphere of Vulcan in approximately ten minutes, Captain. Once inside the atmosphere, I estimate at present speed Ra'Val will reach the Council in 20 minutes, 32 seconds."

"And the Andorian shuttle?"

"Right on his tail, Captain," said LaForge, sounding impressed. "That little shuttle has got a lot of speed and maneuverability, sir."

Picard nodded. He could not recall T'Pel being particularly noted for her piloting skills, but from the looks of it she was having no problem staying with Ra'Val in his stolen shuttle craft.

"_Crusher to Picard..."_

Out of the corner of his eye, Riker could have sworn the Captain fidgeted in his seat at the sound of the Chief Medical Officer's voice.

"Yes, Doctor, what is it?" answered Picard quickly.

_"I think you had better come down here sir. I have something I think you need to see..."_

Troi turned to look at Picard sensing an uncharacteristic hesitation from him. He was dreading something, she could tell, and underneath that a layer of something else...perhaps embarrassment?

_"Captain?"_ drifted Crusher's voice sounding puzzled. Troi could not help but hear an undercurrent of irritation from Crusher at his delayed response. "_It's Lt. Yar, sir."_

Picard stood up. "Is she injured?"

"…_not exactly, Captain. But could you bring Counselor Troi along with you?"_

Picard looked down at Troi and nodded. "We're on our way."

* * *

"Captain, you are worried about T'Pel, aren't you?" Troi walked alongside him as they approached sick bay. Up until that point they had both been silent.

"Of course I am," he said simply. "She is my friend."

"Do you think she will prevail against her brother?" She felt a flare of anger, and yes, fear move through him. He felt…helpless to save her, but was struggling to come to terms with this emotion. She considered his unwillingness to pursue T'Pel's shuttle when it would have been easy to overtake her. Perhaps he wanted to give her a chance to resolve the situation, before he was forced to act by killing Ra'Val. It was a show of respect for T'Pel, one that he must have believed she would want.

"I don't know," he said halting outside of sick bay. "Counselor, I know you mean well, but could we agree to avoid this topic at least for now?"

She nodded slowly, and could tell that his thoughts of T'Pel had now been buried temporarily underneath a different set of emotions, as he resumed his stride into sick bay.

* * *

"How is she, Doctor?" Picard asked, nodding toward Tasha Yar, who was lying still, but apparently awake on a bio bed.

Crusher looked concerned to be sure. "She appears to have had some kind of psychic connection with T'Pel. The Lieutenant is acting a bit odd and seems to slip from her own personality to one much more…logical and restrained, and then for lack of a better way of describing it, the two personalities merge. If I had to guess, Captain, I would say T'Pel initiated a mind meld with Yar before she left the ship. Why she did it, I couldn't say. But I would like you and the Counselor to speak with her before I clear her to return to duty."

"I see," he said trying to keep his tone neutral at this strange bit of news. He kept a respectful, professional distance between himself and Beverly as they moved to Tasha's bedside. Troi stood on the other side of the bed, gazing sympathetically down at the young woman. Yar had a faraway expression on her face, which changed to one of familiarity when she saw Picard.

"Hello, Jean-Luc," said Yar, hardly sounding like the tense security chief she had shown herself to be on the journey thus far. She looked up at him with a serene smile.

He patiently ignored her failure to use his title. "Lt. Yar, I am sorry to see you in the hospital again," he said reaching down and grasping her hand lightly. "Are you feeling well enough to tell us what happened?" To his surprise she gripped his hand in hers fiercely.

"You listened to me, when I said to let me go," she said, still smiling.

He stared at her. _T'Pel?_ He thought. But said "I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"I intend to stop my brother. Thank you for not attempting to intervene."

Picard turned with wordless confusion to Troi.

"T'Pel is that you?" asked Troi, leaning forward. Yar turned to look at Troi, and a look of confusion passed over the young woman's face. Yar, let go of the Captain's hand with a disoriented glance around her, as though she just realized where she was and who was with her.

Yar rubbed her hands through her short hair. "I—I don't know exactly what happened. I tried to stop T'Pel from entering the shuttle bay…the force field was out, and we knew Ra'val was probably in there. She wanted to go into the shuttle bay…I said no, and that's the last thing I remember." He eyes grew wide and she sat up abruptly to look around her. "Is my security team alright?"

Crusher nodded, patting her on the shoulder. "Yes, Lieutenant, they will all be fine," she reassured Yar.

Troi smiled at Yar. "Are you sure that is all you remember, Tasha?" she asked gently.

Tasha blinked a few times and shook her head as if to clear it. "I don't know…I remember…was she inside my mind?" she asked, looking at Troi with an alarmed expression.

Troi nodded. "We think so, Tasha."

Tasha's eyes welled up unexpectedly with tears. "She had no right…"

Troi turned to Picard and Crusher. "Would you excuse us for a few minutes?" the Counselor said somewhat protectively.

Picard opened his mouth as though he was about to protest, but Beverly took his arm, and nodded at Troi. "Let us know when she's well enough to speak with us," she said leading Picard away from the distraught young woman.

* * *

"Care to step into my office, Captain?" Crusher said, letting go of his arm. She lifted an eyebrow. He responded with a look that indicated he wondered if the invitation was as loaded as it sounded. Without a word, he followed her inside.

Once inside her office, Beverly turned to face him with a sly look on her face. She absently traced the edge of her desk with her finger. "Well _that_ was a close one," she said with a brash smile.

Picard kept his face blank. "What was a close one?"

She laughed and sat down on the edge of the desk. His eyes dropped to look down at her, and he considered how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her. Instead, he consciously took a half-step back to avoid the temptation. _So coy, Jean-Luc, _she thought. "Have you forgotten my son's grand entrance already?"

"On the contrary, I doubt I will ever forget it," he said drily.

"Captain that seems a little dramatic. I never thought you were the type…."

He stared at her, eyebrows fixed in an upright position. "Are you telling me that you're not bothered by what just happened?"

She looked at him and shrugged slightly. "It wasn't ideal, but…"

He folded his arms over his chest. "Beverly…don't you think we should talk to Wesley?"

Her amusement faded only slightly. "We? Are you volunteering?"

He held up his hands in quick reconsideration. "Alright, perhaps just you…"

"Jean-Luc, he's fourteen, he knows about these things and he'll get over it. If he has any questions about you and I, trust me, he will eventually ask me. Besides if he is at all uncomfortable I don't want to force anything on him he doesn't want to know."

"I can't imagine there is much he doesn't know after walking in on that…" he muttered.

Beverly stood up and moved toward him. She ran her index finger along the collar of his uniform, and then halted its course, pressing her hand lightly against his upper chest. "Jean-Luc, have you considered that maybe right now I don't want to tell my son every little detail about what we're doing? Let's just give it some time, alright?"

"Hmm? Yes, whatever you say," he murmured now thoroughly distracted as he leaned down to kiss her. As they moved closer together, she began to rub her hand in small circles on his chest. He started to walk her backwards toward the desk, but she pulled away from his kiss and looked into his eyes.

"This is very nice Jean-Luc, but I think Troi is waiting for us in the other room," she reminded him in a low voice. "And if we take too long, she is bound to come looking for us. Or worse yet, Riker will call you on the intercom. And I'm getting tired of being interrupted, aren't you?"

He was finding it difficult to speak at this point, so he nodded and reluctantly separated from her.

* * *

When they returned to Tasha Yar's bedside, the young woman was sitting up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. Her face was pale and drawn, but she appeared to be regaining her strength. Troi stood with a hand on Tasha's back, comforting her silently.

"Lt. if you have been…exposed to T'Pel's thoughts, do you have any idea what she intends to do?" asked Picard. Crusher slowly ran a tricorder over Tasha.

Tasha breathed in slowly. "All I know, is that she is completely focused on stopping him from destroying the Council—at any cost, Captain."

"How much of her memories do you have, Lieutenant?" asked Picard cautiously. He looked down at his hand in alarm as Yar suddenly clasped it in both of hers.

"All of them, Captain," she said, sounding as though she did not even believe her own words. "And yes," she said, her face and voice seeming to change before their very eyes. "I still love you, Jean-Luc."

* * *

**Hi Everyone, thanks for reading and all of your reviews. Hope you enjoy the new chapter and that the end of the week comes quickly for you. -PP**


	13. Chapter 13

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 13**

* * *

"Commander, the Andorian fleet appears to be departing Vulcan," said Data, turning halfway around at his station.

Riker stood up, alarmed. "All ships?"

"Yes, Commander. The Vulcan High Council confirms that the Andorian government received the transmission Delegate Stahl sent concerning Delta Vega just before his death. The Andorian Imperial High Command has denounced all acts of aggression committed by General Thran against the people of Vulcan, and is distancing itself from any responsibility for starting the war. The Andorians have pledged to send medical aid and supplies to Vulcan." Data paused. "According to this message, General Thran is currently listed as a war criminal, and the Imperial High Command has placed a price on his head," added Data.

A slow smile spread over Riker's face. It was good news all around. "That should make life a bit more interesting for General Thran," he said.

* * *

Picard tried to ignore what he had just heard, but it was impossible to deny that he had just heard the words _I still love you_ come from his Chief of Security. The space around Tasha Yar's biobed had somehow become claustrophobic. Next to him Beverly Crusher snapped her tricorder shut and then grew still.

Only Deanna Troi seemed to notice the shift in Tasha once more, and leaned in, placing her hand on Tasha's shoulder. "Tasha?" Another look of confusion, and then relief passed over Tasha's face. She exhaled and her hands gripped the edge of the bed almost desperately. More than anything, she seemed embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said, unable to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean to say that…I just kind of...heard myself saying it." Picard remained silent but gave her what he intended to be a reassuring nod.

"I don't think it was you, Tasha," said Troi. "Those were T'Pel's thoughts and emotions that you were expressing just now."

Tasha looked at her wide eyed. "Somehow I can remember everything she's ever seen, everything she's ever done..." she trailed off and glanced up at the Captain, and then flushed and looked away. Captain Picard now looked familiar to Yar in a way that made her feel incredibly vulnerable. When she looked at him it seemed as though she had known him for years. And now she found him attractive in a way she hadn't noticed before. She looked up at him again, and felt her skin flush again with memories of him.

Crusher looked from Yar to Picard and back. Picard straightened and clasped his hands behind his back and averted his gaze from both women. Why did he feel like he had just committed some very sinful act? Yar was gazing at him as though he was her long lost love, and Crusher was looking at him with barely disguised suspicion. As Crusher stepped away from his side, he fought the urge to follow her with his eyes. "How long can Lt. Yar expect to experience these…symptoms, for lack of a better word?" he asked. He could not help but hope selfishly that it would not be for too much longer.

Doctor Crusher consciously avoided looking at Picard, and instead looked at Troi hoping that her feelings did not betray her. "I'm afraid I am not familiar enough with mind melding enough to know how long these occurrences will last," she said. "Counselor?"

Troi shook her head. "My experience with this subject is mostly academic, as well, but basically what Tasha is experiencing is the exchange of thoughts she had with T'Pel. She now has T'Pel's thoughts, memories, and emotions to contend with along with her own. She will have to focus to keep her sense of self, for as long as the effect of the meld lasts."

Tasha really did not like the sound of that. "Well, can I go back on duty?" She looked from Crusher to Troi and then Picard with a hopeful expression.

"As long as you understand that we really cannot prevent the re-emergence of T'Pel's thoughts, I don't see anything preventing you from returning to duty," said Troi. "As long as Dr. Crusher concurs," she added, glancing at Beverly.

Crusher patted Tasha on the knee with a slight smile. "I think you are alright to return to bridge duty Lieutenant, but if you feel yourself losing control, I want to see you here in sickbay right away, or at the very least, contact Counselor Troi and let her know how you are doing. Alright?"

Yar nodded and gave her a relieved smile. "Understood. Thank you," she said, and hopped down from the bed. With another glance behind her, she quickly hurried from sick bay.

* * *

"There must have been a reason why she performed a mind meld on Lt. Yar," said Picard, looking at Troi.

Troi nodded. "The most immediate reason I can think of is that she needed Yar's knowledge to escape and pursue her brother," said Troi.

Picard nodded. "Yes, the security code…and the enhanced piloting skills. Makes sense," he conceded. "Still it is hard for me to believe she would have done such a thing without Yar's consent, unless she believed it absolutely necessary," insisted Picard.

"Captain, I know you have known T'Pel for years, but a lot can change in ten years," said Crusher. "Maybe you should consider that she may have changed…" She trailed off, meeting his gaze tensely.

Troi looked from Crusher to Picard. "May I speak frankly?" They merely looked at her, so she proceeded. "There are other reasons why she might have initiated a mind meld in the way she did. T'Pel was about to throw herself into a situation in which she may be killed. Perhaps she wanted to leave something of herself behind."

"You mean the fact that she still loves the Captain," Beverly clarified. Picard shot Crusher a sharp look, but she returned his look defiantly.

Troi struggled not to smile. "Yes," she said. "Captain, I know this is a very personal question…but were you aware that T'Pel loved you?"

Picard reddened and took a step back as though Troi had thrown a punch at him. "No," he said tightly.

Troi smiled gently. "It is possible that she didn't mean to express that specifically, but in transferring her emotions to Yar, a human being, those things that T'Pel was never able to express to you as a Vulcan, may now be expressed using Yar as an outlet. T'Pel may not have intended to reveal her love for you, and in fact these could be old emotions, not new ones," said Troi.

"But she said 'I still love you'", said Crusher. "That sounds awfully recent to me."

Sensing a rush of emotion from Beverly, Troi decided to change the subject slightly. "There is another theory for the mind meld," said Troi. "And that is simply that she wanted some way for us to track her progress down on Vulcan."

Picard nodded. "Yes, she did take Yar's combadge after all. That tells me that she wants me to know where she is."

_Of course she does…she loves you_, Crusher thought in exasperation. "If you will both excuse me," she said. "I'll be in my office," she said and left quickly.

* * *

Troi looked at Picard. He watched Beverly leave with a confused expression. She could tell that his confusion was genuine. He didn't understand why Beverly was upset with him. He shifted from foot as he watched her go, and then turned to Troi.

"Captain, perhaps you should go and speak to Beverly," she suggested gently.

He stared at her appearing both irritated and puzzled. "Do you think that will help?" He knew that if he followed Beverly into her office, she might just tell him to leave anyway.

As she heard his thoughts, Troi pressed her lips together, but her smile would not remain hidden. "If you don't at least try, I think it will be worse sir…"

* * *

As he had feared, Beverly did not seem at all happy that he appeared a few moments later in her office. She turned as he walked in, and then went back to rummaging in her desk for an apparently important but elusive item. "Did I do something to upset you?" he asked cautiously.

She briefly glared at him and then returned to what she was doing. _Troi put him up to this_, she thought.

"Beverly," he ventured, walking toward her. He stopped next to her desk and she looked up at him. "I can tell you are angry, but I can't read your mind. Now will you just—"

"Jean-Luc, were you telling the truth about T'Pel? You had no idea that she loved you?"

"Frankly, no…"

"Well weren't you in a relationship with her?" she said incredulously.

He paused. "Define relationship…." he winced, instantly wishing he could erase the words that had just spilled clumsily from his lips. She stared at him open mouthed while he tried to recover. "Wait," he said, correcting himself hastily. "Yes, I was in a relationship with her."

"For how long?"

He shrugged and mentally kicked himself again for doing so. "About one year, I suppose."

"I see," said Beverly, getting to her feet and facing him. "So from your point of view a one year relationship can be shrugged off? It wasn't important to you?"

"That is not what I said." He took a step back, wondering why he had listened to the counselor.

"Did you love her?"

He looked down at the floor and then up at the ceiling, wishing he could back slowly out of the room unnoticed. "I cared about her," he admitted after a moment. "I don't think that I loved her."

She stood her ground. "Last night you told me you cared about me…"

He shook his head. "It's not the same thing, Beverly. Now, you're acting irrationally—"

She laughed sharply. "Oh really? Well maybe you would rather be with a completely rational Vulcan. And then you can spend the relationship not having to worry about how she feels!"

"That's not fair," he said shaking his head. "I do want to know how you feel. So, now why don't you tell me what you are feeling?"

She stared at him. "It bothers me that Lt. Yar knows more about you after a brief mind meld than I probably ever will."

"About me?"

"Yes, Tasha knows the _intimate_ details of your relationship with T'Pel. And do you think I missed the longing looks she was giving you? So you asked how I feel, Jean-Luc. I feel…left out."

* * *

**Delta Vega**

Walker Keel moved forward in his command chair, flashing a brash smile for the benefit of the glowering face on the forward view screen.

"What is your business here?" Demanded General Thran. "Why did you leave orbit around Vulcan?"

"I should be asking you the same thing, General," said Walker. "But since you asked first...we had a tip that there were some illegal mining operations underway on this planet. Then we arrived and were attacked by some pirates who seemed very familiar with those mining operations and seemed to be awaiting your arrival General. So now are you ready to answer your own question?"

"I don't have to explain my presence here to you or anyone else," snarled Thran.

"Funny you should mention that," said Walker, picking up a data tablet next to him. "Because according to this news bulletin issued from Andoria just minutes ago, you have been charged with forty-seven different war crimes and other various treaty violations."

"Captain," said Lt. Yarborough from tactical. "The Orion ship's portside engine is back on line, and they are once again capable of propulsion and navigation."

"Keep our shields up," said Keel and then turned his attention back to the glaring General on the view screen. "So, General what is to stop me from letting those pirates know that you have a price on your head? They seem ready and willing to collect on their debts, and they seem to think that you owe them some trilithium…."

"Well, they would have to compete with me, now wouldn't they?" Walker's eyebrows shot up in surprise and his attention was diverted to a tall figure suddenly standing next to General Thran. Thran stiffened, as the barrel of a long nasty looking pistol was placed against his temple. Commander Zatha smiled at Walker. "You see, Captain Keel, I have no intention of giving up the opportunity to collect on some other debts owed to me…personally," she said, as the screen went black.

* * *

**Vulcan**

"Starfleet shuttle identified as 'NCC 1701-D Mercury 02', state your purpose," said the Vulcan flight controller. The Starfleet shuttle had entered the atmosphere minutes ago and its crew had so far failed to identify themselves. He checked his console. The shuttle's course was set for the High Council complex. If it intended to land, it would need to slow down considerably.

"Shuttle Mercury, you have no clearance to land…state your business." His eyes widened slightly, as the small ship seemed to increase its velocity. He leapt to his feet, as a second ship came shooting through the clouds in pursuit of the shuttle. "Red alert," he announced throughout the station. "Defense Force launch two fighters to intercept the path of the Andorian ship. Shoot to destroy," he ordered.

Two small Vulcan fighters shot up and away within seconds of the controller's order. They maneuvered around the Starfleet shuttle and headed for the Andorian ship, firing phasers.

T'Pel rolled her ship out of the way in response to the incoming fighters and the shuttle shuddered in protest. She returned focus to Ra'Val's ship in front of her, and was able to ensure that she didn't lose him. She checked the scanner and was she was within 4000 meters of the Council building complex. She would need to act soon, but the Vulcan fighters were now a problem she could not ignore.

Ahead of her in the Mercury 2, Ra'Val hunched over the controls and began to focus his mind on the Council, now looming ahead of him. He needed no weapons to make his stand. All it would take would be a thought, properly focused and he would wipe out the Council with one blow. He glanced at the aft view screen and could see his sister's ship close on his tail. He smiled to himself. She was determined to stop him, but she would not succeed. He closed his eyes, and the outer defense shield for the Council city, already damaged by battle, lowered with little resistance.

T'Pel was taking heavy fire now, and one of her main thrusters had been damaged. Acrid smoke began to fill the cockpit, and as she adjusted her targeting systems, the ship jolted, taking another hit.

* * *

Captain Picard strode onto the bridge. Riker turned around, his face tense. "Captain, Ra'Val's shuttle has closed to within 3000 meters of the Council city, sir. And the defense shield has been lowered."

"Any sign of T'Pel's shuttle?" he asked.

"She's still behind him, Captain," said LaForge. But she is taking heavy fire from the Vulcan defense fighters."

"Lt. Worf, send a message to the Council, to cease fire on the Andorian vessel. Inform them that the Mercury 2 is a rogue ship and a danger to the Council," said Riker. Worf nodded from behind him at the communications station.

"Ready phasers," said Picard walking to stand in front of the view screen. "Lt. Yar, can you get a lock on the Mercury 2?"

"Aye sir," said Yar. "Switching to manual targeting." Riker turned to look at her, and she seemed much less the young, eager to please officer than she had just hours ago. In fact, her expression was almost placid as she prepared to hit a tiny target from thousands of kilometers away.

"The Mercury 2 is two thousand meters away from the Council perimeter," announced Data.

Picard raised his hand, "Fire on my command," he ordered.

"Captain," Data interjected suddenly. "The Andorian shuttle has fired on the Mercury 2, and the Mercury 2 has been de-stabilized."

"The Mercury 2 is veering off course, and away from the Council Captain," Yar confirmed.

"Hold your fire," said Picard. He sighed and then glanced over at Riker, who returned his look of restrained but relieved happiness, and then shook his head in amazement.

"Status of the two shuttles?" Picard's brief elation was almost immediately replaced by concern for T'Pel. He remembered Yar's communicator. "Is she within transported range?"

Data's hands flew over the ops control panel. "No sir, the shuttle is now outside transporter range. The Andorian shuttle continues to chase the Mercury 2 but at decidedly lower speeds, Captain."

"Where are they headed?" Picard snapped.

"Home…" Picard stood up slowly and turned to look at Yar, who had just spoken in a voice remarkably similar to T'Pel's. She regarded him placidly. "We are going home, Jean-Luc," she said with a faraway look.

He turned back to Data. "Data?"

"The two shuttles appear to be headed toward the Tarhana desert, Captain," replied Data. Picard nodded. T'Pel had told him years ago that she had grown up in a small desert community. He looked down at his hands. "Track their progress," he said. "I will be in my ready room," he said.

* * *

Riker watched Picard leave, and to his surprise, Lt. Yar followed the Captain and entered the ready room before the doors shut, before Riker could tell her to return to her post. He gestured for Worf to take over at tactical and then turned and looked questioningly at Troi. "What the hell is going on with Yar?"

Troi explained quietly what had happened in sick bay. His mouth dropped open in amazement. "Is she fit for duty?"

Troi nodded. "As far as I can tell, yes. But it still remains to be seen how the mind meld will continue to affect her," she said.

Riker shook his head. "I couldn't help notice she is now on a first name basis with Captain Picard," he said. He looked up as the turbo lift doors swished open and Dr. Crusher stepped out. She seemed somewhat hurried and did not even acknowledge their presence as she walked swiftly to the Captain's ready room.

Riker looked at Troi anxiously. _Oh, this is not going to be good_, he thought.

Troi sat back in her chair and sighed. _Agreed._


	14. Chapter 14

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Hearing light footsteps behind him Picard turned around in surprise, as the doors shut. Tasha Yar stood just inside his ready room doors with an odd look on her face. It was a familiar look; really it was how T'Pel looked at him nearly twenty years ago. He'd been just twenty-eight when they had embarked on an on and off relationship while serving together aboard the Stargazer. He had just become Captain of the ship and T'Pel was the science officer. By the time Jack and Beverly were married, he and T'Pel were over. They had managed to serve several more years together amicably until Jack had been killed, and T'Pel had been severely wounded on the same away team mission. After that T'Pel had left service.

But now it was as if the T'Pel of old was standing there again before him. But no, he told himself, this was his security chief, Tasha Yar, who was somehow under the influence of T'Pel's old thoughts and feelings. "Lt.," he said, backing up slowly. "What are you doing here?"

Yar walked slowly toward him. "I have so many things I want to tell you, Jean-Luc. Won't you listen to me?"

He backed up a little further. "I really don't think that is a good idea, Lt. Yar," he said, shaking his head. "Please return to your post on the bridge."

She advanced on him, and he sat down on the edge of his desk. "Jean-Luc, do you remember this?" she asked, running her fingers down the side of his face and underneath his jawline. He caught Yar's hand and stood up slowly.

"Lt., this is highly inappropriate. Now I need you to return to your post, at once," he said firmly, letting go of her hand.

Yar looked into his eyes, and there was something desperate in her searching gaze. "But I need you…" she said almost pleadingly. She reached for his hand again, but he snatched it away from her and moved to the side.

"Don't touch me," he snapped. "You are not T'Pel, and I don't have anything to offer you. Now return to your station; that is an order."

The door chimed, and Picard was almost relieved. He glanced at Yar, who was still gazing at him like a lovelorn teenager. "Come," he called out.

Beverly Crusher walked in a moment later, and he froze. She was so utterly preoccupied with what she had planned to say to him that she was already speaking as she walked through the door. "Jean-Luc, I've been thinking and I need to say something to—"she broke off as she took in the scene in front of her. _Well at least she's not in his arms,_ she thought…_yet_. "Well, I certainly hope that I'm not interrupting anything," she said unable to keep the sharpness from her tone.

Picard stepped further away from Yar in a conscious effort to put physical distance between them. The last thing he wanted or needed was any further misunderstandings between him and Beverly Crusher. As if drawn to him by a magnet, Yar moved closer to him. "She's not responding to me," said Picard to Crusher, with a look that said_ it's not my fault_.

"Oh, I would have to disagree, Captain. She seems _very_ responsive to you from where I'm standing," said Crusher sarcastically.

Picard looked at her and made a face. "I _mean_, she's not responding to my orders to leave," he said. Yar reached out to him again, and he jerked away.

Crusher pulled her tricorder out of her coat pocket and ran it over Yar. She snapped the tricorder shut. She sighed and looked at him seriously. "Without doing a brain scan, I can't tell if T'Pel's personality is taking over, or this is just temporary. She certainly seems out of it." She looked at him and seemed unable to resist another jab. "Who knows what would have happened to you, had I not walked in at that very moment?" She raised a quizzical eyebrow, and for a moment looked a bit Vulcan herself.

Picard sighed. "Doctor…"

Yar turned to Crusher, as if suddenly aware of Beverly's presence. "Beverly Howard," she said calmly. "Are you here to take Jean-Luc away from me again?" She turned and faced Beverly squarely.

Crusher's mouth dropped open. "What?"

Yar twisted her hands in front of her. "I know that my possessiveness is not logical, but neither is his obsession with you. His love for you nearly destroyed me once. Please do not take him from me again."

"I didn't—I don't know what you're talking about. Jean-Luc?" Crusher turned to him questioningly.

He seemed tongue-tied, and then suddenly hit his communicator. "Counselor Troi, please come to my ready room."

Moments later Troi arrived, with a studied look of impartiality. Of course, she knew most of what had already transpired, even from her seat on the bridge.

Picard made a frustrated gesture at Yar. "Please try and get through to Lt. Yar. She is speaking to Dr. Crusher and me as though she were seeing us years ago."

Crusher nodded, still confused. "She called me by my maiden name…"

Troi frowned and took Yar by the shoulders, looking her in her eyes. "Tasha, can you hear me?" She tentatively reached out the young woman with her mind. _Tasha, come back to us…._

Yar seemed to grow limp, and then straightened. She blinked and looked around her, bewildered. How did she get into the Captain's ready room? "What happened?"

"Tasha…you had another episode," said Troi.

Tasha rubbed her forehead. "I don't even know how I got in here," she said honestly. She put her hand over mouth and her eyes darted from person to person. "Did I do anything…uh?"

"No permanent damage was done, Lt.," Picard said to her with a tight smile. He carefully avoided eye contact with Crusher. "But I would like you to return to your quarters until you have rested and had a chance to talk with Counselor Troi at length."

"Aye sir," Tasha said with another look around the small office. It was the first time she had even been in the ready room. What had prompted her to come in, she had no idea, and she decided that based on the looks on everyone's faces, she didn't want to know.

Troi remained behind, and looked from Crusher to Picard with open curiosity. "I think it is clear now that this is the T'Pel of Captain Picard's past that we are contending with here. I cannot say why those emotions are manifesting themselves now and at this particular time."

"So, the T'Pel of the here and now has no idea what Yar is currently going through?"

"I cannot be sure, Captain," said Deanna. "But my guess is that she has much more to contend with at the present moment than old affections for you."

"Of course," he said, feeling selfish that he was even thinking about these things when his friend was down somewhere on Vulcan. "She certainly didn't indicate she still harbored any feelings for me now aside from friendship. In fact…" he trailed off, not sure if he wanted to finish his sentence. Crusher watched him expectantly.

Taking her cue, Troi backed toward the door. "I am going to go and talk with Tasha as you suggested Captain. I will let you know when she seems well enough to return to her post." Picard nodded as she left Beverly and him alone.

* * *

Crusher looked down at her feet and then back up at Picard. "What were you going to say a few moments ago?"

Picard began to pace inside the small space. "Just that…just days ago, T'Pel encouraged me to pursue my feelings for you. She told me that if I didn't, I would continue to suffer. She also told me, more or less, to stop acting like a Vulcan."

Crusher laughed, and it was a relief to see her smile again. "Really?"

"Yes," he said, allowing himself to smile as well. "That is why all of this with Lt. Yar is just so strange."

"That it is," she agreed. "Jean-Luc…I won't ask you what happened before I came in the room. I trust you that nothing did…but I admit I am feeling a little bit jealous right now, and as you mentioned earlier, irrational."

He stopped pacing and looked at her. "I don't know what I can do to make this easier, Beverly, except to be honest with you. My relationship with T'Pel only lasted as long as it did because T'Pel was willing to overlook my faults for so long. Eventually she could no longer stay in a relationship with someone who was being as dishonest as I was."

Beverly sat down on the corner of his desk. "So she broke it off with you?" Most of the fire had gone out of her voice, replaced by curiosity. "What weren't you being honest about?"

He nodded. "I wasn't being honest with her about how I felt…about you. There were other things, but yes, that was why our relationship ended."

Beverly shook her head and looked down at her hands. "It's so hard to believe. I mean that was years ago, Jean-Luc. To think that you…"

"That I have loved you for that long? Yes…I suppose I have. And I still do," he added with a wan smile.

* * *

**Vulcan**

She knew her brother was injured. She had done so when she had fired on his ship. But that the council was safe was what mattered most. His power had waned and his ability to focus his mind had been weakened. She could see that flying the disabled shuttle craft was becoming too much for him. Her fear now was that she did not truly know what he intended to do. He was leading her back to the area of their birth and upbringing that much was all she understood. And then suddenly his thoughts came to her in a flood. _If I must expire then let there be no trace of me; none of my kin, those who created this aberration, shall survive. Not even you, my sister, whom I still love even as you have chosen to betray me again and again._

T'Pel would not let emotion sway her. Not now when she was so close to stopping her brother. T'Pel struggled with the controls, as her ship flipped over again, and threatened to spin downward into the reddish-yellow dust of the Tarhana desert. Her control of the ship was enhanced by Tasha Yar's knowledge but just as often was compromised by the rush of Yar's memories that threatened to overwhelm T'Pel and throw her off course.

Yar had been exposed to things as a child that no one should ever have to experience at any point in life. She had experienced fear, starvation and violence both first hand, and had seen the same, or worse inflicted on those she cared about, and even on those strangers she knew only through the mutual experience of suffering. These memories had been carefully compartmentalized and placed in a space of Yar's brain that was unreachable to no one but her, even when she was prompted by someone to speak of her history. Only Yar was in control of that space. And that is how it had been until T'Pel had initiated a mind-meld. T'Pel told herself that if she survived, she would do all she could to help Yar heal.

As they flew over a low rocky ridge, she saw it up ahead. It was their hometown. Still inhabited, but by less than 1000 people now; it was the kind of town that one could re-visit after years of having been away, and it remained visibly unchanged. Dust clouds billowed through town, enhancing the desolate feeling of the town. People milled through barren streets below, faces covered to protect themselves from the dust storms. In the center of town stood the tallest of the government buildings, an ancient library, containing some of the oldest writings of Vulcan logicians from the region.

It was then that she saw Ra'Val's shuttle veer toward the library, his intent to destroy it. She banked right and fell in behind him. He was unwavering in his course, and in the end there was no other choice for her but to fire on him again. She let loose the phaser fire, and his ship was hit, knocking out one of the impulse nacelles, and sending his ship spinning to the planet surface. Her own ship had been limping along for many kilometers now, and suddenly she was spinning out of control as well. She tried to slow her velocity, but it was all she could do to pull up as the shuttle crashed nose first into the unforgiving clay of the desert. As her face slammed into the console, she blacked out.

* * *

He woke up with a start. Someone was there. He rolled from his side onto his back and saw a slender shape standing just inside the door of his room; in fact whoever it was, was standing just as T'pel had been just days before.

He blinked. "Who is there?" As Yar stepped out of the shadows, a chill went through him. She was wearing one of T'Pel's drab brown robes. He looked with growing discomfort down at her bare legs and then back up at her face in confusion.

"Jean-Luc, I have come to be with you. It is what I have wanted for so long. I know that there is no logic to this need," she added simply and slowly let the robe slip off of her shoulders and drop to the floor.

He scrambled out of bed, and suddenly felt vulnerable dressed only in his pajama pants. Yar continued to silently stand in front of him nude, and the fact that she had an incredible body did not help him concentrate on remedying the situation. He quickly averted his gaze and looked for his communicator. Finding it on the bed stand, he grabbed it. Perversely his first thought was to call Beverly, and then he realized that in order ensure a longer life, he should call Troi instead.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded.

"I have access to all of the security codes on this ship, Jean-Luc," she said softly.

_Of course you do, how convenient. _He tapped the communicator, just as Yar began to walk towards him with her arms outstretched un-self-consciously. "Picard to Troi," he said, backpedaling, out of Yar's reach.

"Troi here," drifted the Counselor's voice sounding groggy.

He glanced at the time. It was 0300 in the morning. "I apologize for calling you at this time of night, Counselor, but I am in dire need of your…er… your expertise."

"Well, Captain, I am flattered, and I must say what a surprise it is to hear you say such a thing—at any time of day—"

"Counselor," he said through gritted teeth. "Just come to my quarters at once, please."

* * *

Troi had heard the urgency and discomfort in Captain Picard's voice, but she was unprepared for his harried, half-naked appearance when he came to answer his door. He glanced around briefly in the corridor, as though he expected someone besides a counselor making an emergency call to be roaming the halls at this hour. She stepped in hesitantly and glanced at him perplexed. He pointed wordlessly toward his bedroom eyes fixed carefully on Troi's face. "Now you see my dilemma," he said.

She nodded silently and walked toward Yar who had turned and was now staring at Troi. There was a flash of familiarity on Tasha's face, but instead of encouraging her to come out of her fog, Troi decided she would try to talk to her as T'Pel. She hoped to convince T'Pel's emotions to give up on Picard, and she also hoped to get Yar out of the Captain's quarters without waking up, so to speak. If Yar were to realize where she was, the resulting embarrassment could be paralyzing.

"T'Pel, I want you to put this on," she said moving toward Yar with the robe. "And then I want you to come with me," she said as soothingly as possible. Picard stood facing away from them, arms folded over his now chilly chest.

"But I want to be with Jean-Luc," Yar said, hesitating.

"I am sorry, T'Pel," said Deanna. "But Jean-Luc is with Beverly now. You know that to be true don't you?"

Yar bowed her head. "I still love him. Why was I not enough for him?"

"T'Pel, he will always be your friend. Someday a long time from now, you will realize that is enough for both of you. Can you let go of him now?"

Yar nodded and slowly slipped the robe on over her shoulders. Comforting her, Troi walked her out of Picard's quarters. He stood for a little while longer in stunned silence before returning to his bed.

* * *

The next morning, Captain Picard stood on the bridge between Lt. Laforge at conn and Data at ops. He had been waiting for news of T'Pel, any news really. He didn't really expect anything positive, but he had decided that no matter what, he wanted to know what happened to his friend.

"Captain, the sand storms have abated, and we have a reading on the two shuttles, sir," said Data. Data paused, and it caused Picard to look over Data's shoulder at the read-out. A series of symmetrical rings pulsed in red on Data's small screen.

"They've crashed," Picard said dully, and the realization of it was like being dunked in cold ice water.

"Yes, Captain," confirmed Data. As if reading the Captain's mind, he added, "We are too far away to read any life signs, Captain."

Picard nodded. "I will be in my quarters," he said turning away. It was a lie, because he knew there was only one person he was going to go see at that moment.

* * *

He entered Yar's quarters by security override, and regretted it instantly. It was an intrusion he knew, and poor Yar had been through enough already. Besides, how would he know if Yar was Yar, or Yar was …T'Pel?

She was sitting in the dark cross-legged on the floor of her cabin, and immediately he knew T'Pel was there. She was meditating, or had been until he entered.

He took a deep halting breath. "T'Pel, I need to know…are you alive? Do you want me to come for you? I told you that I wouldn't let you die."

There was a pause. "I am still here, my friend…but for how much longer I do not know. Do not trouble yourself with things you cannot control Jean-Luc."

* * *

Picard walked into sick bay with almost no purpose except to see Beverly. He knew she would be angry with him, but it didn't matter. To his mild surprise Troi was already talking with Beverly just outside her office, and the discussion did not appear to be going well. He had told Troi he would be going down to the planet's surface, and she had not objected. Riker had, strenuously as to be expected, but in the end he had relented. Even then, he had strongly recommended a full away team, but Picard had refused. Picard had the impression that if Riker had been in the same situation, he would have wanted Picard to give him the go-ahead to find his friend, so Riker gave him the go-ahead. But that did not mean Riker had been happy about it.

It was suspected at this point that T'Pel was either injured, or dead, so the plan was for Picard to beam down to the crash site, locate T'Pel, and beam her back to the Enterprise with him as quickly as possible.

As he approached Troi and Crusher, she turned to him with a determined expression. "What is this I hear about you planning to go to the surface, Captain? I _cannot_ believe that Riker is going to sanction this…this idiocy!"

"I will forgive you for calling me an idiot, Doctor, because I can see that you are upset," he said.

"Upset? Upset? Jean-Luc, _please_ come to your senses. What if Ra'Val is alive? He will kill you where you stand with barely a thought." She looked to Troi for support, but Deanna remained silent.

"You are right, Beverly," he conceded. "It is risky. But I am willing to take the risk."

She picked up her tricorder and shoved it into her coat pocket. "And you don't give a _damn_ about how it affects anyone else, do you?" With that she whirled around and stalked back into her office.

* * *

Beverly Crusher tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep or do anything but think about death and dying. When she closed her eyes she saw either Jack or Jean-Luc, and it was for a reason, she knew. She could not believe that after all of those years spent apart from Picard both physically and emotionally she would come so close to him now, only to have the potential to lose him again. It angered her, but more than anything, it frightened her.

* * *

When the door hissed open, she noticed that he was wearing the same standard issue bathrobe she had folded on top of her own dresser; the "commemorative" one they had all been issued as part of launch of the brand new _Enterprise_. She looked behind him and saw that in his tiny sleeping quarters a clean uniform was laid out waiting for him to put it on.

"You really plan on going down there?"

He just gazed at her in her nightgown, and nodded silently.

"What if I tell you not to go, Jean-Luc?"

He shook his head. "We've been over this. I'm sorry, Beverly. I have to do this."

"Just like that? And there is nothing I can say to talk you out of this? You could be killed, Jean-Luc."

"I know," he said quietly.

She slapped him in the face then, and then as he stood stunned, she hugged him fiercely around the neck, her tears falling onto his shoulder. It was as though her sorrow, anger and longing for him were one and the same. Something long-suppressed and tortured rumbled deep in his throat and he gripped her so desperately that he lifted her into the air. As her mouth clumsily came down on his, he stumbled backwards, still hugging her tightly. He found his footing again, and they tumbled on to his bed. Beverly tugged at the belt of his bathrobe and it came loose unceremoniously.

He snaked his hand up and under her nightgown and traced his hand over her stomach, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin. As she leaned into his embrace, her breasts fell softly against his hand and she made a noise into his mouth that only increased his arousal. As she rolled on top of him, she squeezed her thighs around him, and they were both released almost painfully from years of restraint. As she leaned down to kiss him again their pain melted slowly into a mutually wondrous mix of sensations.

* * *

**Hi everyone, thank you for your reviews and for continuing to follow. I hope you enjoyed this installment...peace out. -PP**


	15. Chapter 15

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 15**

* * *

When T'Pel awoke it was pitch black and for a few moments she could not remember where she was. Then she remembered that her ship had crashed in the desert. The temperature was stifling inside the cockpit and she heard voices nearby. They were speaking an old dialect, only some of which she understood. She smelled smoke and then the voices began to shout. "Get away, it is going to explode!" Who were they talking to, she wondered? The words spurred her into action and she moved her legs only to find them to be in excruciating pain. That she could feel them at all was a good sign, she knew. The ship had been turned on its side and she struggled to get her bearings in the darkness.

Her left arm was free, but her right arm was stuck fast in something. She pulled it roughly, and there was a high pitched screeching sound, as she yanked her arm free, taking part of the damaged console with it. The metal of her arm glinted in the dim light, as she felt around for the hatchway. It was damaged and would not budge.

Thrusting with all of her might, the hatch creaked open halfway. Someone was on the outside of the ship and was using some kind of tool to pry the door open from the outside. As soon as there was enough room for her to pull herself through, T'Pel swung her arm outside and gripped the hull, pulling the rest of her torso up and out with the strength of her arm. She heard gasps from the people outside. "It is a mechanical person!" the voices shouted in alarm.

As she poked her head up through the hatchway, she squinted her eyes, and saw the sun was beginning to rise. Dust clouds continued to swirl close to the ground, but she could see the sand storms were beginning to subside. As she emerged, the townspeople backed away slowly, still suspicious of what must have seemed her strange appearance, after her arrival in an even stranger alien ship.

Now on the outside of the ship, she could see that both of her legs were severely lacerated from the crash, which explained the extreme pain she was in. Aside from those wounds, and a bump where her head had struck the console, she was alright. From atop the ship she could see that the townspeople's shouted warnings had not been about her ship, but Ra'Val's. The Starfleet shuttle, which was located about 100 meters away, was emitting black plumes of smoke along with a strange hum.

She slid down the ship's hull to the ground, wincing as she landed on her wounded legs. The townspeople seemed to not know whether they wanted to try and help her, or run from her. She didn't ask for their help, so they seemed to settle for watching her from a safe distance. The smoke continue to billow from Ra'Val's ship, and there was an eerie popping sound as the structure of the Mercury 2 began to buckle inward. She limped as quickly as possible toward the burning shuttle, and again the townspeople began to shout for her to stay away.

"It is going to explode!" they warned her. Instead of heeding these warnings, she limped faster, and if the old man had not leapt from behind her, knocking her to the ground, she might have reached the shuttle. At that moment she thought, _my brother is dead_.

Just then, the shuttle exploded, sending pieces of its hull everywhere. The old man and T'Pel ducked their heads into the hard ground as the heat of the blast passed over their bodies and pressed them into the earth. The last thing she expected to see when she raised her head, was her brother standing where the shuttle had been.

* * *

T'Pel lifted her head from the sand and could see that her brother stood somehow unaffected by the explosion as though he had been shielded from the blast. At the same time she could tell he had been injured by the crash, and his ability to regenerate was now permanently damaged. He stood bathed in an eerie glow, which seemed to be a combination of the color of the sun rising behind him, and his internal power.

Beside her the old man was getting to his feet and addressed Ra'Val. "Are you injured?"

T'Pel staggered to her feet on bloody and battered legs, but before she could stop him, the man began walking toward Ra'Val. Slowly, Ra'Val began to lift into the air. "I am quite well, thank you," he said and waved a hand in the man's direction casually. The man instantly disappeared into thin air without a sound. His elderly wife rushed forward but T'Pel grabbed her. There is nothing you can do," she said as the woman stared transfixed in silent horror at the spot where her husband had been. It was the equivalent of a human scream of anguish.

"What are you doing?" T'Pel suddenly shouted at her brother. "What is your purpose?"

"I have no purpose now, sister, except to destroy," said Ra'Val.

* * *

Jean-Luc stared at her in the darkness. For some time now he had been unable to sleep. Instead he traced with his eyes her shape in the dark. He studied the delicate lines of her shoulder blades and tried to memorize the way her hair fell against her neck and back. Her skin seemed to shimmer, bathed as it was in the starlight streaming in from his window.

She was turned away from him on her side and her shoulder rose and fell with each breath she took. He propped himself up on his elbows, and considered waking her up. But he knew she would become upset and angry again at his leaving, and then this wonderful thing they had shared between them-all of this would be ruined. He sat up carefully, and swung his legs gently over the side of the bed, trying not to disturb her sleeping form.

Getting quietly to his feet, he glanced around and then stooped to pick up the uniform he had carefully laid out before Beverly had arrived at his quarters. It was now rumpled and lay in a heap on the floor where it had been carelessly pushed off of the bed just a few hours before. He placed it back on the foot of the bed.

Glancing at the clock he noted that soon on Vulcan it would be dawn. He disappeared into the bathroom where he urinated and then cleaned himself up, washing his face and body quickly and efficiently with a cloth. He leaned into the bathroom mirror studying the lines in his face, and ran his palms over the top of his smooth scalp. Turning off the light, he walked quietly back out into his bedroom.

When he emerged, Beverly was sitting up in bed, holding a sheet around her. She smiled slightly but she conveyed more sadness with it than good humor. Her open gaze reminded him that he was still naked, but for some reason he resisted the natural urge to cover himself.

"Trying to sneak out without waking me?" She ran a hand through her tousled hair and then dropped her hand to the bed lightly. Even the most casual gesture she made appeared to him to be a thing of beauty.

"Perhaps…" he said, moving toward her slightly. "It didn't work though did it?"

"No," she said. "Don't forget…I'm a doctor and I am used to having to wake up in the middle of the night for all kinds of reasons. I guess…knowing that you are leaving the ship is now one of those reasons."

"Beverly…"

"Don't worry, Jean-Luc, I'm not going to fight with you about this again." She put up her hands in mock surrender, and the sheet slipped from her breast ever so slightly. He felt his body beginning to respond and her mouth rounded into a slight smile as she watched him. Seeing his discomfort she took pity on him and grabbed the clothes at the foot of the bed, tossing them to him. He caught them and began to get dressed.

She continued to watch him, but her expression grew introspective. "I'm not going to pretend I am happy with it, Jean-Luc, but you and I both have to make our own decisions, and this is one of yours. No matter what happens…I respect that," she said simply, with a small shrug.

He stared at her, feeling an almost overwhelming feeling of affection. "Thank you," he said. _She is so wonderful,_ he thought.

She twisted the sheet awkwardly in her hands. "Jean-Luc…I'm sorry that I hit you before we…. There's really no excuse, but I was so angry, and-"

"I forgive you, Beverly. Please, let's not speak of it again," he said gently. He bent down and pulled his boots on quickly. Standing up again, he smiled at her.

She moved out of the bed, still clutching the sheet around her body, and walked over to the replicator. "Med kit," she said. "Field issue." A small first aid kit swirled into existence. She snapped it open and checked the contents quickly. "Here," she said in an almost professional tone, turning and handing it to him. "In case T'Pel is injured."

He took the kit from her with the feeling that she really was talking about him, and not so much T'Pel. But even if she had decided against mentioning again the possibility of him being injured-it was clear that she continued to think about it. It bothered him to know she was worried about him, but he knew better than to try and reassure her. She was much too practical for all of that.

Without knowing what else to do or say, he hugged her tightly, and the feel of her body brought that wonderful electricity back from earlier that evening. They kissed briefly and then her lips grazed his neck and he could have sworn she whispered something. He pulled away and said "What's that?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and then rested her forehead against his collarbone. They stood like this a few more moments and he consciously waited until she let him go.

He stepped back and nodded at the sheet she continued to wear. "What are you going to do…?"

"If you don't mind, I'll take a shower here and then just replicate myself a clean uniform before I go back on duty."

He smiled. "Of course I don't mind," he said. "Although I did rather like the image of you parading through the ship like that. It actually looks quite regal, you know," he added laughing.

"Oh, shut up," she said, returning his laugh, then grew serious again.

Picard put the small med kit inside a satchel in which he had already placed a phaser, and a few more items, and slung the bag over his shoulder. As he walked away, he fought the inclination to turn back around, until he was just to the doors, and he heard her voice call to him.

"Jean-Luc?"

He turned, and saw that she had put on his bathrobe. Her eyes glinted in the dark as she spoke. "I love you too."

* * *

"No more red alerts", Wesley thought to himself as he left class for his lunch break. Although some of the kids in his class had parents who were officers, they all seemed to believe that life had returned to normal; just like that. His teachers had been the same way. But Wesley knew better. He knew that Captain Picard was off ship and on the planet's surface. Although he didn't know everything that was going on down on Vulcan, he knew just by the look on his mother's face earlier that morning that it wasn't good news.

She had been gone the whole night until the early morning, and when she had returned to their quarters he had heard her moving around the living area, busying herself with odds and ends. He lay awake for a while listening and then drifted off to sleep. One time he heard something drop to the floor and she cursed softly. If she was worried about waking him up, it was too late.

She had replicated him a huge breakfast of pancakes, and then watched him eat while she drank three cups of coffee one after the other, and said very little. "Aren't you hungry?" he'd asked between mouthfuls. He knew she was due for a long shift, and would need the energy.

She looked away and then back at him with a quick smile. "Not particularly," she said softly. As she stared vacantly into the bottom of her coffee cup Wesley noted for the first time that she looked exhausted.

"So with all of the hostilities over with, do you think we will be leaving Vulcan soon?" he asked, pausing in mid-chew.

She forced a thin smile. "I don't know, Wes."

"Well, has Captain Picard said anything about leaving Vulcan?"

Beverly slid the mug back and forth between her palms. "No," she said.

"Do you think he'll come over for dinner again tonight? I mean, maybe we can ask him then," ventured Wesley.

Crusher sighed heavily and then looked at her son with an appreciative smile. "Not tonight, Wes. Actually, Captain Picard left the Enterprise a few hours ago. He transported down to Vulcan."

Wesley stared at her in surprise. "Is he trying to find his friend T'Pel?"

She nodded. "But I'm glad that you want him to come over again. When everything returns to normal…as normal as things get around here…I think he will."

When she said this, Wesley believed suddenly that things would be alright, that they would return to normal and his face lit up in a smile. It was the kind of statement that was convincing only because it was his mother saying it. She gazed at him with an expression that he knew was meant to reassure her as much as him. He hoped that she believed her own words.

Then after a few more moments, his mother pushed herself up from the table. "I have to go on duty now, Wesley. See you this afternoon, and have a good day?"

He nodded, and the warm feeling he had experienced a few moments earlier was replaced by a feeling of helplessness as he watched her leave.

* * *

Now, as he walked through the corridors, Wesley decided to pass by sick bay and see how she was doing. When he entered sick bay, he saw several crew members, most of them security officers who were lying on recovery beds. These must have been some of the victims of Ra'Val's violence just before he escaped from the ship. He saw that his mother was running a scanner over one man's forehead.

"I am seeing some improvement, but a brain trauma just does not heal quickly, Lieutenant," he heard her say. "You have to be patient, and let me monitor you a few more days." She put her hand on his shoulder laying the scanner down. "When I am satisfied that your cognitive function is almost back to the levels you were showing at the time of your last physical, I will recommend you for duty again. Alright?" The man nodded reluctantly, and hopped down from the bed. As the crewman walked away, his mother turned to a nearby doctor and handed her a chart as she passed by.

Seeing that she was now free, he called out to her. "Mom?"

She turned looking slightly surprised to see him, but brightened a bit. "Hi," she said with a smile, walking toward him. "On lunch?" He nodded. "I was going to have something myself. If you don't mind eating in my office…."

* * *

"So, Mom," ventured Wesley. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling."

She looked at him and frowned, putting her sandwich down on her desk. "Could you be more specific?"

He hesitated, panicking slightly. Jeez, he didn't have a specific diagnosis. He wasn't even sure if he should raise the subject. "Just…you know… you and the Captain." I mean, I can see that you like him..."

His mother looked somewhat amused by his choice of words. "_Like_? Hmm."

Wesley was trying not to get embarrassed. He was trying to be mature about it, but at the same time, if he wasn't at least allowed to use teenage terms for romantic relationships, it was going to make this conversation even more awkward. Had she forgotten that he had seen them together a few nights ago, and then last night, that she had been gone for more than a few hours…. "Well, okay… you're dating him right?" he blurted out a little more abruptly than he intended.

Beverly had trouble finishing a bite of her sandwich on that one. She swallowed uneasily. "Well…" she said studying his face carefully. "That's one way of putting it."

Wesley took a sip of his juice. "How else would you put it, Mom?"

Beverly looked up at the ceiling, regretting her choice of words as a flood of recent memories of being with Jean-Luc entered her mind. "You know, on second thought Wes that was actually a good way of putting it. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

Wesley shrugged and finished his sandwich in one final bite. He considered that maybe if his mouth was full for a few more seconds, he could think of the appropriate way to close out this awkward conversation. His mother appeared to be relieved that he had stopped asking questions for a few beats. When he finished chewing, Wesley looked at his mother. "Mom, I wasn't trying to put you on the spot…I just want you to know that I know…and I don't mind."

Beverly felt herself becoming emotional as she smiled and reached out and gripped his hand. "Thank you Wesley, I love you." She laughed. "When did you become so wise, anyway?"

* * *

T'Pel stood facing her brother. The townspeople had dispersed when they realized the old man was not likely to reappear. They comforted his widow in their own fashion, and removed themselves to safe distance from the two dangerous visitors.

"You say your purpose is to destroy," said T'Pel gesturing behind Ra'val at the tall library he had tried to deliberately crash his shuttle into. "Brother you must see that destroying an ancient library, or even one thousand libraries cannot erase the knowledge that has been passed down over thousands of years. There will always be someone to carry on Surak's teachings."

"Not if those individuals are destroyed," said Ra'Val.

"Do you intend to destroy all Vulcans?" asked T'Pel.

He tilted his head at her as though he were examining a very small insect. "Perhaps I will start with you," he said, and motioned toward her, and she was blown backward as if a great wind had knocked her off of her feet.

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard materialized in the center of a desolate small town. He immediately regretted not wearing a headscarf, as tiny grains of sand immediately whipped at his face, neck and hands. He looked down and saw that sand and dust swirled around his boots. The morning light streamed through craggy hills in the distance, and despite the wind, he began to feel a dry heat, not oppressive, but sharp on his exposed skin. Sand had already worked its way inside the collar of his uniform.

Turning to his right he saw Zatha's ship, laying on its side. Several hundred feet past it was a burnt shadow of the Enterprise shuttle Mercury 2. _Is Ra'Val dead?_ Reflexively he began to sprint toward Zatha's ship hoping his friend was inside. Gradually he slowed to a jog and then stopped abruptly as his boot made a wet sound, unusual for such hard ground. He looked down at his feet again and this time, saw dark green patches of blood everywhere in the near vicinity. _T'Pel._ He knelt to the ground and retched violently. If this was her blood, she surely was no longer in the shuttle. But what had happened?

It was then that he turned at the sound of shouts. His head jerked around and he saw an immense pile of stone rubble that must have at one time been a very large building. The shouts were coming from the direction of the pile of rubble. As he walked closer he could see that these were not ruins. In fact the building must have been standing recently, and then had just been…destroyed. _Ra'Val… _

Hearing the shouts turn to screams of pain, he picked up his pace, and began to navigate the remains of the building, with the hope of reaching whoever needed his help, before it was too late.

* * *

**Hello everyone, I've probably got a chapter or maybe two left in this story. If you are still reading it, I thank you for doing so and for your reviews! Take care. -PP**


	16. Chapter 16

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**Vulcan Surface 0800 hours**

Picard stumbled through the debris and more than once almost turned his ankle on tiny rocks that covered the huge slabs of broken building. He had been searching for fifteen minutes now, and the screams of pain had been reduced to an occasional moan and now he heard nothing, except the occasional bird or scurrying lizard.

The problem was that it had been only one person crying out, and now that they had fallen silent he could only stumble in the direction he hoped he had heard them before. He overturned stone over stone and his back, shoulders and hamstrings were now burning from exertion. Suddenly he heard a whirring sound and looked up into the hills. A great swirling dust cloud was headed down hill in the direction of the town. The cloud was fast approaching, and he had no time to think. The rushing cloud sounded like the roar of an engine, and he covered his ears. Desperately he tried to find a place to hide.

There should have been enough of them, but before he could find any place of refuge, the wind was upon him and the rest of the town. He felt rocks, sticks and sand blow into him, and his body went spinning into the air uncontrollably. He was blown with the force of the wind just above the rubble pile, until he struck a large flat horizontal slab of stone which was jutting upward. His back struck it, and he felt a rib snap, and as he slid down the stone he blacked out.

When he came to it must have only been a few minutes later, and the rushing sound had died down. His mouth was full of dirt, and he spit it out as best he could, given that his mouth had very little moisture in it. He coughed raggedly. He needed water, and reached down to his side, hoping to find his satchel, but it had fallen off. As his eyes fell on his uniform, he was shocked to see that it was tattered and cut to ribbons. Where his skin was exposed there were thin cuts where sand and other tiny objects had imbedded themselves in his skin.

He tried to take a deep breath, but his rib was clearly broken and felt as though it was poking painfully into his left lung. He knew the only thing he could do was keep moving. If he stayed in one place, he would become too swollen to move. He rolled to his right, crying out as he did so. But he spotted the satchel, thankfully still clasped, and crawled painfully to it. Opening it with shaking fingers, he grabbed a flask of water and sipped it, feeling the cool liquid slide down his raw throat. Taking another sip, he swished a small amount of water around in his mouth and then spit it onto the rocks.

He searched the bag and found the small med kit, trying to run the proper field treatment for a broken rib through his head. There was no real treatment, he remembered, except temporary pain relief and something to relieve the swelling. He couldn't set the bone himself without making the injury worse. He pulled himself agonizingly into a sitting position as he rummaged through the kit, finding a hypo. There were multiple cartridges rolling around the inside of the kit and three were blue and labeled "Analgesic". He loaded one of them clumsily into the hypo spray and held it directly against his left side, already heavily swollen. He made a relieved groaning sound as the contents of the hypo were injected into his side.

He got to his feet, satisfied that for a time the pain would be masked enough that he could carry on. As long as the storms calmed down, that is.

* * *

**Enterprise- a few hours later…**

"He's a stubborn fool, Riker, and you've got to learn to keep him in check, goddammit!"

"As I have told you, there was _nothing_ I could do to convince him to divert from his plan, sir," Riker said again, standing stiffly in Captain Picard's ready room as Walker Keel paced around him angrily. The _Horatio_ had arrived from Delta Vega just a half an hour ago, and as soon as he had broken the news of Captain Picard's absence to a triumphant and grinning Walker Keel, the man's demeanor had changed immediately for the worse, and he had demanded to beam over to the _Enterprise_. The last few minutes had involved Riker receiving a dressing down by Keel, which included abundant swearing about the stupidity of Captain Picard, and insults thrown at Riker about what Keel viewed as Riker's unwillingness to stand up to Picard.

"What plan? So far, I haven't heard a _thing_ about a plan!"

"Well, sir, if you would let me tell you…" Riker fixed Walker with an annoyed expression.

Walker sighed and walked over to the wall and leaned down to look at the fish tank, peering in. _What the hell is the point of this fish anyway?_ _Must come with the new Galaxy class_ _ships,_ he thought. He shook his head with a distracted expression and then looked up at Riker again. "He has a history of doing these kinds of things, you know. I can't blame you Riker—at least not completely."

Riker relaxed his stance somewhat. "Thank you, Captain. The plan is that in ten hours, if we do not hear from Captain Picard, we are to lock onto his location and beam him back. If he is out of transporter range at that time, we are to send a shuttle down. His plan is simple: to find T'Pel and bring her back to the _Enterprise_."

"And let me guess: he wouldn't let anyone beam down with him?"

"He said he didn't want to risk any of the crew over a…'personal issue', sir."

Walker rolled his eyes. "Of course he did. Does Beverly Crusher know about this? Because if you think _I'm_ angry, Riker—"

"I assume that she already knows, sir," Riker said, cutting him off.

"You assume?"

"Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher appear to be…involved, sir."

"Really?" Walker's eyes widened. "Well you don't say," he murmured quietly and then allowed himself a small smile.

* * *

Crusher hesitated outside of Tasha Yar's quarters. She had expected Deanna to be here already. She had agreed to meet Counselor Troi here in order to assess Lt. Yar for her return to duty. Now that she had arrived and Deanna was nowhere to be seen, Beverly suddenly felt uneasy, exposing some of her insecurities related to seeing Yar alone after everything that had happened recently. "Enter," she heard. Crusher took a half step back in surprise-she hadn't yet hit the panel requesting to enter. The door swished open and she stepped in. It was only early afternoon, and yet Yar's quarters were almost completely dark. She made out a shape in the dark, sitting still in an armchair.

"Tasha?" She held her med kit in front of her, not sure why she felt so nervous. Yar stood up and moved into the light.

"Hello, Doctor," Yar said, with a small smile. She was dressed in her standard uniform, and appeared normal. Still, Crusher hoped that Troi would arrive soon, so that they could get this over with.

"Lieutenant," she said returning Yar's smile with a quick one of her own. She put her med kit on a nearby table, and took out a scanner. Turning back to Yar, she said, "Lieutenant, how did you know I was outside the door?"

Yar laughed. "You said you would be coming by sometime this afternoon, with Counselor Troi."

"Yes…but I didn't say exactly when. And yet you buzzed me in before I even notified you I was at the door."

Yar's eyes narrowed slightly, but then the smile returned. "Okay…I admit I don't exactly know how I knew someone was outside my door, Doctor—I just knew. Does it matter?"

Crusher sighed. "Frankly, Tasha, yes it does matter. You have picked up some of T'Pel's extra-sensory perceptive abilities. My concern is that you will continue to develop these and other parts of T'Pel's personality traits."

Yar folded her arms over her chest. "Are you really concerned about me, or are you concerned for yourself because it makes you uncomfortable?"

Crusher leaned against the table and attempted to remain objective. She was here to perform a medical check-up after all. She tapped her tricorder against her knee. "Excuse me?" Where the hell was Troi, anyway?

"I've seen the way your face changes when I'm near Captain Picard. It's obvious that you are threatened by me. But if you think I'm going to try to get Captain Picard into bed, you should think again," said Yar. "I'm completely in control of _my_ personality, thank you very much," she laughed, but her voice held a warning. "If I were you, based on what I've learned about him through T'Pel's memories, I'd be more concerned about him not being able to keep it in his pants." She stepped toward Crusher. "Not that I couldn't have him if I wanted him. Come to think of it, I almost did the other night, until Troi interrupted us," she added.

Crusher felt her heart leap into her throat at Yar's words, and she straightened. Just who exactly was addressing her? T'Pel? Tasha? Or both? "I suggest that you watch your mouth, _Lieutenant_," Beverly snapped, trying to prevent her voice from shaking.

She did not often emphasize rank, but then again, she didn't often need to, because her subordinates did not typically talk to her in this way. She took a deep breath, and wet her dry lips, feeling the sting of Yar's words as they repeated in her head again. _…until Troi interrupted us_. Her head jerked in the direction of the door as it suddenly chimed.

"Come in," Yar called out sweetly, and appeared unfazed by what had just transpired between them.

Beverly smoothed her lab coat out, as Troi walked in looking from one woman to the other with a curious expression. Crusher found her hands and legs were shaking slightly from adrenaline, and she struggled to calm herself down. Troi looked at her in surprise and then moved to Yar.

"Hello, Tasha," said Troi calmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," said Tasha, moving to a chair and sitting down fluidly. "Run your tests. I'll pass them all," she said confidently.

Troi looked at Beverly to try and determine what had happened before she came in. Crusher glanced away and down at her tricorder. From Beverly, she sensed…anger and humiliation. From Yar she sensed…over-confidence, and something else buried very deeply. Fear. Yes, Lieutenant Yar was terrified of her present circumstances.

Yar knelt down in front of Yar, who was still sitting. "Tasha, it is not really about passing tests. It is about whether you are mentally and emotionally capable of returning to your post."

Yar laughed. "Of course I can return to my post. I can run circles around anyone else on the bridge crew," she said haughtily. "Except for maybe Data," she added. "But he doesn't exactly count, does he?"

Troi remained in her crouching position, and put her hand on Yar's knee. "What do you mean, Data doesn't count, Tasha?"

"Well, he doesn't have to deal with emotions, does he?"

"But you do," Troi prompted. "And how does that make you feel right now?"

Yar sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling. "I mean, it would be great if I could just turn these things off like a switch and get back to work, but I can't…."

Crusher sat down at the table, and leaned on her elbows, watching uncomfortably. She was glad that Troi was taking the lead here, as it gave her a chance to calm her mind after what had just occurred. Jean-Luc had been gone for about seven hours and no word yet from him at all. She knew that in another three hours, if Riker had not heard from him, a rescue would need to be launched. Part of her wanted to be with him on Vulcan right now, but there was also a fear that when the time came to go to him, she would not have the courage to do so. She knew for certain that she did not want to find him dead somewhere. But she did not want to have him brought back to her dead either, when she could have done something to help keep him alive down there on the planet.

She tried to re-focus her thoughts as Troi was speaking to Tasha again. "When you feel T'Pel inside your mind, what do you do?" she asked.

Yar frowned. "I try to make her go away, but she's very powerful. It was more difficult when Captain Picard was on board the ship. Now that he is away, I feel stronger…less controlled by her memories of him." She looked at Crusher, but the taunting expression had retreated, and she seemed again to be the same Yar just intent on returning to duty and making everyone feel safe.

Troi nodded and stood up. She looked at Crusher, who moved to her side with the scanner. Troi moved aside as Crusher silently ran the scanner over Yar's forehead and back along her temple and behind her ear. A flash of surprise registered on her face, and she pressed her lips together with a small "humph" sound, as she stepped back.

Crusher studied the scanner readings a few moments longer. "I can't believe I am saying this…Lieutenant, when I last tested your brain wave activity, it was visibly normal, perhaps busier than usual, but it appeared to be _your_ brain activity..."

"But now it's not mine?" Tasha prompted.

"Well, you actually register with an additional set of brain waves. Your memory activity in particular is off the scale."

"So…I have two brains…" Yar said. She actually smiled. "I'm twice as smart…well T'Pel probably has an IQ off the charts, so I am…"

"You already _were_ smart," said Crusher. "But yes, you have somehow incorporated T'Pel's brain activity into your own, so you might find conversations with Data about dying pulsars to be more interesting now."

Yar laughed. "Doubtful," she said, and stood up. She turned to Crusher. "Look, Doctor Crusher…I was way out of line earlier. As you can see I am having trouble figuring out quite who I am lately. But I know I crossed a line; and I will try not to do that again," she said. Crusher nodded but gave her a carefully guarded smile.

* * *

As Crusher and Troi walked down the corridor after leaving Yar's quarters neither one of the women spoke much. They had both agreed that Yar had now integrated T'Pel's memories, emotions and personalities into her own. So instead of having two competing personalities, she now appeared to have one formidable one. It remained to be seen how easy it would be to reverse the process later on, if in fact, Yar would be willing to do so, and T'Pel was alive to assist. For now, they had agreed to clear her for duty.

Just before they passed by sick bay, Crusher halted and suddenly spoke in a low voice. "Troi, I know we haven't known each other for long, but I would like to think that we are becoming friends…can I trust that you would tell me if you witnessed something between the Captain and Yar? Not as a counselor, but as a friend?"

Troi slowed and looked at Beverly sympathetically. "She said something to you, didn't' she?" Beverly simply nodded and looked at Deanna expectantly.

"Beverly, I do consider you a friend as well," Deanna said with a warm smile. "But I also have to be considerate of Lieutenant Yar. She is experiencing a great deal of turmoil right now. The fact is…yes she did go to Captain Picard's quarters the other night, although she appeared more to be T'Pel than Tasha…and she did try to seduce him." She watched as a flicker of suspicion washed over Crusher's face. "But he called me before anything happened, and I must say…he was very glad to see me."

"He didn't say a word to me about it," said Beverly. Troi gave her an incredulous look as if to say _you cannot be serious_.

Beverly laughed almost involuntarily, and put her hand over her chest, feeling a rush of relief. "I'm sorry," she said. "I must seem like a very jealous fool to you, Deanna," she said.

Troi shook her head. "Not at all," she said, and put her arm around Beverly's waist affectionately as they continued to walk.

* * *

**Hi, so I am just going to stop announcing that the story is almost finished, because here I am posting two chapters in a row, and the story is still not quite finished... I guess it will be done when the storyline is done in my head! That said, I hope you are still enjoying this. Best, -PP**


	17. Chapter 17

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 17**

* * *

**Vulcan 0950 hours**

Picard squinted and crouched down, seeing movement ahead of him and to his right. His left side objected to moving quickly, but for now most of the pain was kept at bay by the drugs he had taken ten minutes earlier. Moving forward he looked down and could see that indeed an elbow and forearm was moving slightly underneath a large slab of stone, which in falling had created a narrow cave, sloping downward. He couldn't see anything but the arm, however. He touched the side of his communicator turning on the universal translator and bent down again. "Hello? Can you hear me? I am going to help you, just hang on!" There was a faint answer, but nothing comprehensible to his ears. At least the person was alive, he thought.

He stood up, wincing slightly. There was no way he could fit himself inside that narrow space. Judging by the size of this person's arm, they were smaller than he was, and they were stuck. He pushed experimentally against the stone, and it seemed immovable. It didn't matter. He had to get this person out alive. He looked around for something to brace the stone; a lever of some kind, perhaps a piece of timber. He cursed himself, knowing there was no wood to be found; he was in the middle of the bloody desert.

He did eventually find a suitable rock, which he was able to wedge underneath the slab. Pushing with everything he had, he felt it would almost move, but almost was not good enough. His heart was pumping fast, which gave him an idea. He checked his med kit, and soon found what he was looking for: a tiny vial of adrenaline. Years ago, this had helped him through difficult times and he remembered had helped give him a burst of strength to carry on.

He had no idea what was a safe dosage, and what was not, so he loaded the hypo spray and without another thought he emptied the contents into his neck. The result was an immediate rush, and he felt his heart speed up unnaturally. He leaned down, feeling a pressure in his chest. The feeling that he might now be having a heart attack after everything else, made him so angry that he threw everything he had against the stone slab, and was exhilarated when it moved a few inches, and then gave way, sliding up and to the side. Quickly, he adjusted his smaller wedge rock so that the slab would not fall inward again.

Now he could see that the person inside the ditch was an old woman, covered in dust and wearing the same kind of plain brown robes he had seen T'Pel wear. And she was alive. "Hang on," he said, trying to sound encouraging. He lay down on his belly, and grasped the woman's forearm. He was shocked by how light she was, as he pulled her up and out of the hole without too much effort. Pulling her to safety, he sat her up and leaned her against him, pulling out his water flask. She grasped it with trembling hands and brought it to her lips. "Thank you, child," she said, and leaned against him. He studied her dusty face, and saw that she was very, very old. She looked back at him. "You are a human child," she said.

He smiled at her. "Yes," he said. To her, he probably did seem like a child. He had difficulty judging the age of Vulcans. T'Pel, he knew was at least twenty-five years older than he was chronologically, yet physically she appeared to be roughly his age. If this woman resting against him was two hundred years old, he would not be surprised.

He got to his feet, and kept his hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am," he said not sure how to properly address her. "Are you able to stand?" She nodded, and struggled to do so, when he realized that her knee appeared to be dislocated. He knew from his rib injury that there was no bone-knitting tool inside the med kit, but there was an expandable splint. He said to her, "Take a deep breath and don't look at it," and then placing his palm on her kneecap, he put his hand under her calf and straightened her leg with a click. She jerked against him, but didn't make a sound. He had seen cocky young human males cry over less painful injuries. She gripped his arm tightly.

"I'm sorry. I know it is painful" he said quietly, and placing the splint against her knee, grabbed some gauze and began wrapping it quickly and tightly. He used one of the analgesic pain medications on her leg, and she slowly relaxed her grip on his arm, and her breathing slowed. _Thank goodness for Beverly and her med kit, _he thought, and then shook the thought of her out of his mind. _Beverly._ It was just too much for him to think of her right now.

"We must leave, it is not safe, child," the old woman said, pointing a shaky hand up into the hills. "The winds will return."

He wanted to ask her if she knew where T'Pel was, if she had seen Ra'Val, but he knew he had to get them to safety. "I will tell you about your friend later," she said to his surprise. "Take me to my home," she said, pointing in the other direction. Following her gesture, he could dimly see a small low lying clay structure about 500 meters away.

He nodded in silent agreement and stooped down to pick the woman up in his arms. He was thankful that she was quite light, because he could feel the swelling in his left side increasing, and the pain was slowly seeping back into his rib cage. He carefully clambered down from the broken ruins of the building, cradling the old woman in his arms. It was then that he heard the same rush from before, drowning out all other sound around him. "Run!" she shouted, and he began to do so, as fast as he could, as the wind began to swirl around his feet again. Somehow, they reached the woman's house quickly, and an old man came to the door beckoning him in, as Picard rushed in through the low entrance. The old man slammed the door shut, just as the winds crashed into the structure.

* * *

"You won't believe this," said Riker to Troi, as she sat down next to him on the bridge. She looked at him in anticipation. She'd heard and seen many things she could hardly believe in the last few weeks, so she promised herself she would be unsurprised by what he had to say.

"Lt. Yar was able to arrange a home for the Redeemer children—at least temporarily. They will be living in some kind of a monastery until a more suitable home can be located for them."

Troi was admittedly shocked. "But the High Council was so opposed to their return."

"Well, I guess things have changed a bit, now that the Andorian pressure is off. Besides, Stahl is dead now, and maybe he was the most resistant to helping the children. And in truth no one ever really blamed these children."

Troi nodded. "I have to say, I am glad they came to their senses. Have the children been returned yet?"

Riker shook his head. "The High Council is forbidding travel until a very dangerous group of storms traveling through the deserts has died down," he said. he paused, thinking of Captain Picard out there somewhere in one of those deserts. "You don't seem surprised about Yar's involvement in this," he commented, trying to distract himself.

Troi leaned back in her seat. "Surprised…no. Pleased, yes. She is turning what could have been a very disabling situation into a positive one."

Riker smiled slightly and tapped at the control panel on the command chair. "Data, what is your read on the Captain's position?"

"Captain Picard's signal has been quite weak for the last few hours, Commander. Now it is not present at all."

"What do you mean, 'not present'?" Riker snapped, getting to his feet.

"It is the sand storm, Captain," said Worf from behind him at tactical. "They are disrupting his transporter and communications frequency, sir."

"And even if we weren't prohibited from traveling to the surface right now, we wouldn't be able to pilot a shuttle through these storms," said Riker, almost to himself.

"I would sir," said LaForge, turning around slightly.

Riker exhaled slowly and walked forward. "I know you could. Let's hope these storms subside soon and it won't come to that, Lieutenant," he said, putting his hand on Geordi's shoulder.

* * *

Once inside the small house, Picard carefully lay the old woman down on a small simple bed, as the old man moved to his side. "Thank you, my son," he said quietly, checking her pulse. "My dear sister survives because of you," he said.

Picard nodded, but stood there not knowing what else to do, and feeling a sudden urge to leave. He had to find T'Pel, and already a few hours into his journey, he had yet to be any closer to locating her.

The woman turned her head to look at him groggily. "You are restless, young man, but you must not leave yet. You are not safe outside right now, and you will not help your friend by dying."

"Who are you?" said Picard. "How do you know about me or my friend?"

The old woman coughed. Her brother had brought her a bowl of broth which she sipped slowly, sitting up. "I am Anaht. I am the keeper of the records of this region," she said. "Some have called me a priestess, but above all I am a protector of the old ways of Vulcan."

"That building…was it some kind of temple?" Picard asked, sitting down in a chair offered by the woman's brother. He appeared to be as old as the woman.

She shrugged. "You might call it that," she said. "It contained many of the old teachings, some of which have been passed down through the ages, and some which have remained secret."

"But…what happened?" He nodded gratefully as the old man returned with a blanket which he draped over Picard's shoulders and then handed him a bowl of soup.

She narrowed her eyes. "The Wild One returned, just as I knew he someday would. He destroyed the structure of the building, but the ideas contained within can never be destroyed."

Picard stared at her. "This 'wild one', you describe. We call him Ra'Val. You know him?"

"I do know him, or should I say, I _did_ know him. He and his sister were well known to us all." She sipped her soup while he waited impatiently for her to continue. "Twins are uncommon in this region, and many did not trust the children simply out of ignorance. But others of us knew the truth; they were anomalies; both genetically gifted and cursed at the same time."

Picard could feel the painful sensation returning to his side. He suddenly felt clammy, and began to shiver. "How…how so?" he asked her.

She studied him. "You are injured boy, and you need attending to. But I will tell you because I can see you desire to know. These two children were both very powerful telepaths. The girl was larger, stronger and by all accounts very gifted. At a young age, she was stoic even for a Vulcan."

He smiled, despite his pain. T'Pel was always stoic; not exactly a shocking statement. He took shallow breaths now, because it hurt to breathe too deeply.

"The boy on the other hand was small, giving the appearance of being physically weak, and he was given to bouts of uncontrollable rage. He would disappear for hours and even days, causing his parents needless worry. Eventually, his outbursts became so intolerable, and his behavior so abnormal, that he was sent away."

Picard coughed and tasted blood in his mouth. "Sent away...to where?"

"To exile of course…" she said as if it were obvious.

"Why did no one attempt to guide the boy? To help him?" Picard could feel himself becoming angry.

"Fear. We feared his power."

"But don't you see Anaht? He's come back now and destroyed the most precious part of your town. But much worse than that, he has inflicted pain and suffering on other parts of this galaxy; committed unspeakable crimes on people he didn't even know."

"And you are suggesting human that we did not show him enough care? Could you have predicted what Ra'Val was to become?"

Picard shook his head, and shrugged off the blanket, now feeling overheated. "I honestly don't know," he said. He coughed raggedly, and this time, blood dribbled down his chin.

Anaht shouted to her brother. "Asur, this boy needs healing!" She turned back to him. "My niece, Asur's daughter is a healer. She will help you enough so that you can continue your journey."

"Don't you even want to know where I'm going?" he said. "I need to find T'Pel and Ra'Val. Did you see them?"

Anaht nodded. "If she lives, she has followed him. And I know where he would go. A small mountain several kilometers from here is where you will find them."

He nodded and stood up shakily. "How soon will it be safe to leave? And I need to contact my ship." He touched his communicator, but it emitted a dull chirp. "Captain Picard to _Enterprise_. Come in _Enterprise_."

Anaht shrugged. "You will not be able to use any such devices as long as the storms rage. You must wait at least two more hours before leaving, Picard."

He peered out a dust covered window, but could see nothing. Turning back around, he was startled to see a young woman with reddish golden hair, standing there before him. She was beautiful. He attempted to stand up straighter to appear less injured, but he could see it had not worked. She studied him with what could only be described as a physician's expression of detachment.

The old man, Asur, stood at her side. "This is my daughter. She will attend to your wounds." He looked at Picard carefully. "You look as though you know my daughter?"

Picard blushed. The truth was she did remind him a little bit of someone. _It was the hair_. He had never met a Vulcan before with red hair, and this woman's hair was also much longer than the average Vulcan's. "No, I do not…" he said shaking his head.

* * *

Beverly rested her head on her forearms, safe in her office away from prying eyes. When she closed her eyes, she only saw him, and felt his hands on her skin. Those delicious moments came back to her and she felt herself becoming aroused at the memory of what she had experienced all of those hours before. It seemed like years ago, like they had been together for fifty years, but in reality she was only just getting to know him. And now this. Now, she was waiting to see if he lived or died, and there was nothing she could do, nothing at all. As horrible thoughts replaced the good ones, she fought back tears, and she squeezed her fists, angry at her helplessness.

She lifted her head at the sound of a man clearing his throat. For dreamy instant she imagined that it might be Picard, but as her vision cleared, she saw that it wasn't. And she knew that her disappointment registered clearly on her face.

Walker Keel walked into her office, and already his smile was fading, as he noted the look on his friend's face. "Expecting someone better looking?" he said, sitting down across from her. He knew better than to approach her too quickly when she was upset.

She sat up quickly and straightened her data pad on her desk. She smiled at his joke. "Yes," she said easily. "But not for a little while longer. Still, it is good to see you, Walker."

"And you," he said, reaching across the desk for her hand. She gripped it warmly, but let it go just as quickly, making it obvious to him that she was distracted.

"Nice work out there, Walker. Glad to read the reports that you were able to avoid any further bloodshed," Beverly said.

"Yes," he said, laughing. "Amazing really, sandwiched between pirates and a crazy arms dealer, we actually did quite well for ourselves."

"Jean-Luc would be proud to hear it," she said, getting up from her desk chair. "What ever happened to Commander Zatha?" she asked.

"As far as I know she's transported General Thran back to Andoria where he will be sentenced. Considering the General has already been charged with multiple war crimes, I can't imagine he will be around much longer."

She looked at him with a disgusted expression. "Would they really execute him, or do you think that is all just posturing?"

Walker gazed at her frankly. "Beverly the Andorians don't posture, as you have already seen. They are pretty much all action. Besides, I know you don't agree with executing someone, but it is their law after all, not ours."

"Walker I'm not in the mood for a philosophical argument with you."

"That much is clear," he said. She shot him a warning look.

"So maybe you are in the mood for a late lunch?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, a ridiculous gesture which she hoped he did not use to try and seduce women.

She hesitated, aware of the unfinished reports on her desk. "Okay," she agreed, smiling up at him. He held out his arm to her, and she took it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Demons, Part 5**

**Chapter 18**

"Where are you injured?" The young Vulcan woman stared at him as he sat down stiffly on a stone bench.

Picard shifted nervously and glanced around him uncomfortably. Was this her bedroom? "I think I broke a rib," he said, touching his left side lightly.

"Please remove your shirt," she said coolly.

"Um…I cannot really do that. You see," he said gesturing up and down. "This is a…a sort of jumpsuit. Annoying thing, really…I would need to take the whole uniform off…"

"You will need to take it off then," said the woman dispassionately.

Picard laughed nervously. "Oh no… I don't think that will be necessary," he said. His smile faded as she stared at him with a distinct lack of emotion. He looked down at his tunic which was already somewhat tattered from the storm. "How about if you just cut away what you need, to access the injury?" he suggested, attempting to be helpful.

The woman nodded. "Very well," she said, moving toward him rather abruptly, with a small sharp cutting instrument clutched in her hand.

He put his hands up, wincing. "Wait…what is your name?" He was unaccustomed to allowing strange women, or strange men for that matter—touch him. If he must, perhaps he should at least first learn her name.

"Benel," she said, tilting her head slightly. "My name is Benel." She gestured for him to lie down on the stone bench, and he complied slowly.

She cut a large square out of his uniform very carefully, as he watched her uncomfortably. "Asur told me that you are a doctor…um a healer."

"Yes," she said, turning away from him and reaching into a steaming bowl of something herbal. The memory of the smell of Beverly's chamomile tea suddenly drifted to his nostrils but now instead of finding it objectionable it might have been the most wonderful smell in the world. "But I have never met a Human, and I am unfamiliar with human anatomy. However, from what I understand it is congruent with Vulcan physiology," she said. "I should be able to treat you without killing you," she added, sounding slightly optimistic.

"How comforting," he murmured, feeling his mouth begin to dry out as he tried to breathe as shallowly as possible to avoid increasing the pain in his side.

Picard shut his eyes, aware that the fever beginning to take him over. Feeling the woman's cool hands on his skin, he tried not to imagine that it was Beverly Crusher who was touching him. The light from a small heating stove flickered across the woman's face as she leaned over him placing a compress on his bruised ribcage. Her face seemed softer, more familiar as he watched her through heavily lidded eyes.

"You are bleeding internally," she informed him dispassionately.

"That can't be good," he mumbled, staring up at her. He struggled to sit up. "I have to leave," he said, the urgency of finding T'Pel suddenly entering his head again. Benel pushed him back down gently. She was strong, being a Vulcan, and he felt incredibly weak at this point. _So tired_, he thought.

"The sand storms have not yet abated," Benel said firmly. "If you intend to leave in this state, you may die," she warned him. "Your desire to help your friend at any cost is admirable, but it is also illogical. If you die, you will be no help to anyone."

He blinked several times, and he could have sworn that she was smiling down at him, but then when he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, she appeared to be the same, beautiful yet distant person. _She is not Beverly,_ he told himself with drowsy frustration.

* * *

"When were you going to tell me about you and Jean-Luc?" Walker asked Beverly, leaning back in his chair to stretch after they had finished their late afternoon lunch in Ten Forward.

Beverly glanced up from her cup of cocoa with a calm expression. "Who said there is anything to tell?"

Walker laughed, but looked slightly irked. "Oh, don't try and be coy with me, Beverly," he said, leaning forward to stare at her intently.

She smiled tightly and put her mug down. "Alright…how did you know?"

"Well, if I said it was just my intuition, you wouldn't believe me…." She shook her head confirming his statement. He smiled. "Let's just say a little bird told me."

Crusher shook her head. "A little bird? Where?" she asked slowly.

Walker shrugged mysteriously.

"Would that little bird be about six foot four and currently sitting in the Captain's chair?" Crusher prompted.

Walker's face fell. Why did she always seem to know everything? "It's not exactly Riker's fault," he said, trying to protect the first officer. "I asked him if you knew Jean-Luc was down on the planet's surface, and he sort of let it slip…"

Beverly sat back in her seat and folded her arms over her chest striking an expectant pose. "Let what slip?"

"That you and Jean-Luc are now…."

Beverly stared at him, tapping her fork on her empty plate. "Walker, are you looking for specific details or just a general confirmation?" He reddened slightly at that, but didn't answer. "Yes…" she said. "Jean-Luc and I are together now. Happy?"

"Actually, yes," he said, reaching out to take her hand. "I'm very happy…for you," he said, his eyes glinting.

She squeezed his hand affectionately and could not help but smile. "Walker, you look as though you are going to cry," she said feeling both amused and touched at the same time.

"Beverly, this _is_ a long time coming," he said. "And as you know…I am a man of very deep emotions," he added unable to keep a completely straight face. Despite her uneasiness at the fact that Jean-Luc was still currently down on Vulcan, she was able to laugh a little bit; something she could always count on Walker to help her do.

"The sand storms have lessened, Mr. Picard," Benel's uncle Asur announced from the doorway. He studied Picard carefully, as the human was now sitting upright on the stone bench. He appeared more alert.

Picard nodded and got to his feet, trying to make a convincing show of strength. His fever was gone, and miraculously he felt much better. "Good," he said. "I need to leave now." He turned to the young Vulcan woman who had nursed him at least halfway back to good health. "Benel, I am indebted to you, for helping me to heal so quickly. Thank you, and please tell me what I can do to repay your good deed."

"No payment will be necessary Mr. Picard," said her father.

Benel bowed her head slightly. "Your rib remains broken Mr. Picard, but with some care, you will survive," she said.

He nodded. Whether he would be able to take care, remained to be seen. "How far away is the mountain your sister spoke of?" He asked turning back to Asur.

"Approximately three kilometers," he said. "As long as you are not slowed by any further storms, it will not take you long to reach the foot of the mountain. There I expect you will find your friend and her brother."

* * *

"The Andorian battleship _Striker_, is approaching Commander," announced Lt. Yar. "Shall I raise shields, sir?"

"No," said Riker. "'Remember General Thran was brought back to Andoria in handcuffs. Let's hope the _Striker_ has a…less hostile captain now."

"We are being hailed Commander," said Worf from ops.

"On screen," said Riker. The image that flickered onto the screen was immediately familiar.

"Commander Zatha," said Riker smoothly. "What a pleasant surprise."

"You are a charming one," said Zatha with a diplomatic smile. "But I must speak with Picard," she insisted.

"Why?" questioned Riker, his smile faltering only slightly.

"I want my shuttle back, that's why," demanded Zatha, antennae swiveling. "And from what I recall it was last in the possession of your crew, Commander."

"What happened with Thran?" Riker asked evasively. "We didn't exactly _expect_ a reunion so soon, Zatha," he added.

"General Thran was _remarkably_ cleared of all major charges leveled against him once we returned to Andoria. Apparently he knows someone of importance," she said dryly.

Riker broke his poker face slightly. "But you now have his ship, I see," he observed.

"Yes," Zatha said with a sly smile. "My only other consolation is that he was strongly encouraged to retire from our ranks, and did so. However, this did not result in a promotion for me…yet."

"How unfortunate for you," remarked Riker.

She leaned forward intensely. "Enough about my career. Now, Riker; where is my personal shuttle?"

Riker rubbed his chin. "Right…well you see there was a slight problem."

Zatha's eyes narrowed. "What kind of problem?" In her mind's eye she pictured Picard somewhere in the universe flying her shuttle out of control again.

"Ra'Val escaped from the _Enterprise_ in one of our shuttles. And his sister, T'Pel followed him down to Vulcan to prevent him from destroying the High Council. In doing so, she commandeered your personal shuttle."

Zatha's antennae shot straight upward. "This is an outrage!" she shouted, slamming her fist on the arm of her chair. "I will see you in five minutes, Riker. I am transporting over."

"Do you want me to block her transport, Commander?" Yar asked calmly, as the view screen went black.

Riker shook his head. "…nope…."

* * *

Her brother Ra'Val had seemingly used most of his energy to destroy the ancient library and had paid the physical and mental price for doing so. T'Pel had seen an old woman familiar from her youth; the holder of the records had been buried in the rubble of the old library, but after ensuring that the woman still lived, she had pursued her brother through the desert, stopping many times to take refuge from the winds behind rocks and weather-beaten hills.

The lacerations on her legs had coagulated long ago, perhaps aided by the wind and sand which had battered her body for several kilometers. T'Pel now limped unsteadily, now virtually blind. Her eyes and mouth were full of sand, causing her to wheeze in an effort to breathe. Ra'Val flew ahead of her, alternately floating on the winds and falling to the desert sand, due to lack of energy, or lack of will, she did not know. She knew where he was going. She knew he was too injured to do anything but run from her now. His old plans, his schemes were nearly forgotten now. He was now pursued, and she was the pursuer; that was all.

* * *

He ran as fast as he could, staggering over the hard earth, stumbling only occasionally. Once or twice he stopped to breathe and drink water. He had no idea how many hours had passed since he had first beamed down. Perhaps five, but he was not sure. His body and energy were nearly spent, that much he did know. When this was all over he promised himself that he would sleep for a day.

Soon enough he reached the foothills of the mountain the elder Vulcans had described. It became clear that what must have seemed a mountain to T'Pel and Ra'Val as children was really hardly more than a series of large cliffs winding upward. He did note a number of tough looking trees dotting the hillside, which was unusual given the lack of plants and trees elsewhere in this desert.

He slowed his pace and surveyed the area for signs of battle but the hillside was silent. In fact, the eerie silence was the only thing that indicated that the peacefulness of this area had recently been disturbed. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his pace and started up the steep path.

* * *

"Where is Picard?" Zatha demanded to know, stepping down from the transporter pad with her usual authoritative marching step. Lt. Yar and several security personnel were there to greet her with stoic expressions.

"_Captain_ Picard is not available for you to speak to," said Yar tersely.

Zatha glared at Yar as if she were an annoying insect. "I thought he and I had an understanding," she said. "We're two of a kind, in fact," she added. "Yet he has no time to speak with me? I demand to know…."

Yar's affect changed almost imperceptibly. "I would advise you to calm down and avoid making a scene, Commander Zatha. These histrionics are not only uncharacteristic for you, but they are also illogical."

Zatha's hard mouth broke into a slow smile. This Human sounded almost Vulcan. "Fine," she said simply. "I will wait for the Captain to become available, so that he can explain to me why my shuttle is missing."

"You will be waiting awhile then," said Walker Keel, stepping into the transporter room. "Captain Picard is down on Vulcan."

Yar turned to Keel, her eyes hard. "With all due respect, Captain Keel, you were not authorized to disclose Captain Picard's location."

Keel looked at her with mild surprise. She seemed a bit different than the last time he had seen her. "I only said that he was down on Vulcan…and it's a big planet, Lieutenant," he remarked. "Besides, Commander Zatha's technology is as good as ours, and she could find him if he wanted—"

"Still sir, you have needlessly put Jean-Luc at risk by disclosing his location—"

Walker's eyebrows shot up. First, Beverly and Picard had begun a relationship, and now Yar and Picard were now on a first name basis? How much had really happened since he last left the Enterprise? He almost did not want to know. "Jean-Luc? That seems a bit informal, _Lieutenant_," he replied, emphasizing her rank. She continued to stare at him with the same unflappable expression, which was very disconcerting. "Anyway," he said turning slightly away from her. "Commander Zatha is free to locate her shuttle, certainly. We'll give you the coordinates for your shuttle," he said, addressing Zatha.

Zatha nodded, and seemed to have calmed down considerably. "Very well. And what of Picard? He still lives, I hope."

* * *

"Commander, the storms have cleared," Data announced from ops.

"Good," said Riker. "Start searching within a 20 kilometer perimeter of where Captain Picard beamed down."

"Sir," Worf said gruffly from his post at tactical, "Lieutenant Yar reports that Commander Zatha is aboard and has decided to wait for Captain Picard's return. Lt. Yar also reports that Captain Keel revealed to Zatha that the Captain is on Vulcan, along with the Andorian shuttle."

Riker frowned. "Thank you, Worf," he said. He doubted Zatha intended to do anything more than to verbally spar with Picard and retrieve her shuttle. Still, her presence was an added distraction until they had Picard back safely aboard ship. "Let her wait with the rest of us then," he murmured. "Find her a place to sit and wait away from anything too sensitive, and don't let her on the bridge. I don't entirely trust her," he said in a louder voice.

"Aye sir."

* * *

Her ears were ringing from Ra'Val's attempts to prevent her from gaining on him. He left sonic waves trailing behind him, which sent rocks tumbling down behind him. The waves shuddered through her, vibrating her skull which made her stumble several times, but she pressed on. She kept her eyes fixed just ahead of her feet, but looked up just in time to see a huge boulder rumbling down toward her rapidly. Though fatigued, she jumped out of the way and off of the trail to avoid the rock slide. When she scrambled back to where she had been, she looked up the mountain and saw no sign of Ra'Val.

* * *

Picard had been forced to resort to nearly crawling on his hands and knees, to avoid slipping back down the steep hillside, as a seemingly endless stream of rocks pelted him from above. He could only guess that they had been dislodged and that somehow Ra'Val' was to blame. When one particularly large boulder came rolling down, he leapt from the trail and landed in a particularly thorny bush. Extracting himself painfully and with growing anger and irritation at his predicament, he continued back up the hill. Squinting, he could see the top of the cliff, and a purplish sky above it. It was then that he saw a flash near the top of the cliff, so bright that he shut his gritty eyes for a few seconds and could see the after-image. He heard shouts from the same area, and tried to hasten his steps.

* * *

Beverly Crusher prepared a med-kit quickly but methodically. She didn't know yet if Riker intended to let her beam down to the surface, if they would take a shuttle, or if they would simply beam Jean-Luc back to safety. Because she did not know these things, she tried to keep herself busy until she knew more. She had been speculating for hours about whether he was cold, whether he was injured, and the extent of his injuries if he had any. She pictured herself treating each one, and it helped her to walk through each step in her head, and in a comforting way made her feel more like a doctor again rather than a worried friend and lover. This was her new reality she knew, and once Jean-Luc returned-and she knew that he would—he would have to contend with the same kind of worry every time she went on an away team mission.

"Riker to Doctor Crusher," floated Riker's voice.

"Crusher here," she said, almost too quickly. She took a deep breath.

"Doctor, we've located Captain Picard's combadge signature, along with Lt. Yar's stolen combadge meaning we've located T'Pel as well."

"Can you tell if they are alive?" she asked, feeling as though someone else was speaking the words.

There was a pause. "There's been some interference, so no…they seem to be on some kind of mountain."

_Oh._ Crusher was afraid of heights, and just the thought made her feel a little sick. What was Riker waiting for? "Why don't you just beam them up then?" She didn't try to keep the irritation from her tone.

"There is some kind of energy field surrounding them, preventing a safe beam up for now. My guess is Ra'Val is somehow responsible…."

_Of course he is, damn him_, she thought. _Why didn't we just kill him when we had him on board?_

Riker apparently was not upset that she failed to respond, and sounded sympathetic when he spoke again. "Just stand by Doctor. We'll beam them both directly to sick bay as soon as we are able."

"Understood," she replied dully. "Crusher out."

* * *

She had reached the top of the mountain. She sensed he was there, but didn't see him until it was too late and his hands were grasping around her neck. "Go away and leave me alone!" he screamed directly into her face, squeezing his fingers into her throat. T'Pel struck wildly at Ra'Val and then slammed her open palms over his ears, sending him falling away from her, disoriented.

He snarled at her from the ground. "You've won, sister. I am obviously beaten. I cannot carry out the glorious plans I had, so leave me be. My power has depleted."

She advanced on him. "I do not believe you, Ra'Val. You are by nature deceitful. I have seen you re-generate your physical and telekinetic powers. You will recover and persist in your pursuit of bringing the people of this planet under your domination."

He scurried backward away from her. "No, you are wrong, T'Pel. I am finished."

She shook her head and continued to advance. His eyes grew dark, and he suddenly shot up into the air in a spiral of light, and then in an instant, returned to the ground in a crouching position. There was a cracking sound, and T'Pel saw the stone begin to fissure underneath her feet. She stumbled and fell backward unable to catch her own fall. The ground continued to rumble beneath her stunned body.

"T'Pel!" Picard shouted as he saw her fall as he came up the slope, reaching the top of the mountain just seconds after he had seen the flash of light. Now the ground beneath his feet split and cracked. He had never experienced an earthquake before now, and the fear was almost paralyzing, because there was nowhere for him to go. The top of the mountain began to fracture and split apart. He ran and jumped to T'Pel's side. She looked up at him, clearly not expecting him to appear out of nowhere. But to his dismay she looked as though she would prefer if he were not there.

"We have to get out of here," he shouted over the rumbling. "This mountain is coming down around us!" They both looked up to see Ra'Val standing staring at them. A smile crossed his face, and then he turned and sprinted away from them in the other direction.

Picard stood to his feet, as T'Pel pushed him away and jumped up. "No, Jean-Luc," she said brushing his hand away again. They both watched for an instant as Ra'Val continued to run toward the edge of a sheer cliff. Picard could hear him laughing as he ran. Picard leaned out and reached for T'Pel's arm, but she took off running after Ra'Val. It all happened so quickly, that without thinking, he followed behind her.

Ra'Val leapt off of the cliff into mid-air, arms outstretched as though he were attempting to glide away toward some goal visible only to him. Before Picard could stop her, T'Pel shot out after him. Picard's fingertips managed to snag on a piece of her cloak, and he tried desperately to dig his boots into the rocky soil, to stop them both from going over-but the momentum was too much and he tumbled off of the cliff behind her.

The dropping sensation was sickening, and the sides of the cliff rushed by his face. Ahead of him and below was T'Pel, whose cloak was somehow still in his grip. Below them Ra'Val continued to spin, until in an instant, he disappeared. There was no flash of light, but he was gone. T'Pel reached up and grabbed Picard into her arms as they fell. He closed his eyes and clutched her tightly. He saw Beverly's face, before a peculiar tingling sensation washed over his body.

* * *

"Do we have them?" Riker said with a note of amazement as turned to look at Lt. Yar, now at her usual post. How had she known? He heard the word "energizing" spoken from behind him at tactical and hadn't even given the order to transport.

"We have them sir," she said with a slight smile. They are in sick bay."

"How did you…never mind," Riker said. "Data you have the conn."

* * *

Beverly Crusher rushed forward as unexpectedly, two dust covered bodies transported onto the floor of her sick bay. She motioned for her nurses to come and help her and she crouched down beside them with her tricorder. Through the dust, she recognized Picard and T'Pel. Entire pieces of Picard's uniform were missing. They were clutching each other tightly and she could not tell if they were conscious or not.

He hadn't felt the shock of his body being broken apart at the foot of a cliff, nor had he felt any pain. And even stranger still he could feel himself breathing indicating that he was still alive. Slowly Picard opened his eyes, and through a grey film of dust saw a bright light and then more grey out of the corner of his eye. He blinked again and saw that the grey was a piece of carpeting underneath his cheek. He sniffed in, and there was a familiar, somewhat sterile smell. He glanced up and saw that T'Pel was also alive and was staring into his face with something akin to the disoriented feeling he had. Sick bay. They were in sick bay. He smiled at T'Pel and then rolled away, coughing out dust. He stopped, hitting someone's pointy knee. He looked up at the ceiling attempting to focus, and Beverly Crusher's face came into view over his. For a brief moment he thought that she was going to kiss him, but she moved out of view and began shouting orders at her staff before turning her attention back to him with a look of concern. "You're on board the _Enterprise_, Captain. You're going to be alright. Both of you are," she said, shining a light into T'Pel's eyes.

He tried to sit up, but Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. "Do not move, sir. You have serious injuries." He tried to sit up again, and Beverly sighed shaking her head, and put a hand to his neck. He heard the hiss of the hypo spray before the world went dark again.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Healing up well, sir?" Wesley Crusher hurried to catch up to Captain Picard in the corridor. He had seen the Captain only briefly after he had been beamed back to the Enterprise from Vulcan the day before, and he had been sedated. According to his mother, the Captain had two broken ribs and had sustained a punctured lung which had become infected along with multiple other more minor wounds.

Picard turned and halted, waiting for Wesley to catch up with him. "Yes, Mr. Crusher. It's good to see you Wesley," he corrected himself and placed a hand briefly on the young man's shoulder.

Wesley smiled. "Good to have you back, sir." He fell into step beside Picard and they continued to walk in silence. The Captain looked a little uncomfortable. Wesley was walking back to his quarters after an evening study session, and the Captain appeared to be walking the same way. He considered maybe he should invite the Captain for some cereal, but instead said "Where are you headed sir?"

Picard cleared his throat. "Ah…actually I was on my way to see your mother, Wesley. To um…thank her for repairing my ribs," he said patting his side for emphasis.

Wesley laughed. "Oh. Well, sir you don't have to make up excuses for my benefit."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Actually sir…my Mom already told me everything."

Picard swallowed. "Told you everything…"

"Yeah, that you're dating. I think it's great sir. I mean Mom has been in a much better mood lately, and she kind of ignores some of the things I do that used to really annoy her."

"So you're fine with us…dating because it's keeping you out of trouble…"

Wesley shrugged and nodded. "Pretty much, sir."

Picard looked sideways at Wesley. "Alright…fair enough," he said slowly. They stopped outside the Crushers' quarters somewhat awkwardly.

Wesley gestured inside. "Want me to let her know you're here, sir?"

"No, she's expecting me," Picard said a little too quickly.

"Ah…see? So it _is_ a date," said Wesley, with a big smile, as though he had caught Picard red-handed.

Picard grew red. "Well not exactly," he said, and then broke off as Beverly stepped outside the door.

"Hi," she said, locking eyes with him and smiling. He smiled back at her, and Wesley waved a silent goodbye as he stepped around them and disappeared as the door swished shut.

"No cereal for dinner, Wes," Beverly called through the door as an afterthought. She turned back to Picard and he noted that her eyes were shining in a way that made him feel good; he felt happy.

There was no one in the corridor, so she took his arm for a moment as they started walking. "So, how are you feeling?" she asked, leaning into him just a little.

"Quite well, thanks to you," he said with a smile, and he felt her squeeze his arm tightly in response. Just then, a crewman walked around the corner toward them, and they straightened, moving apart to a more professional distance. They glanced at each other as the crewman passed, and then laughed quietly. This was going to take some getting used to, they knew.

Crusher put her hands in her pockets and looked at him curiously. "You know, when you were coming out of sedation after I fixed your wounds, I could have sworn that you said something about a woman who took care of you while on Vulcan."

Picard took a breath. "Yes…there was a young woman—a healer. She took care of me for a few hours. Probably saved my life," he admitted. He looked down at his feet momentarily. "What exactly did I say?"

She stared at him with questioning amusement. "You kept murmuring something about not wanting to take off your uniform. My nurses were quite shocked, Jean-Luc."

He reddened. "How utterly embarrassing," he muttered.

Beverly laughed. "Oh Jean-Luc, it's not that bad," she said, grabbing his hand. They separated again as the corridor started to flow with traffic. "How is T'Pel doing?"

"She's very quiet, which is her way. But she is uncertain…Beverly she doesn't know whether her brother is dead or alive. He just disappeared in front of us—literally into thin air."

"Was she trying to save him? When she dragged you off of that cliff?" Her tone was light, but Picard heard the accusation in her voice.

"She didn't _drag_ me anywhere, Beverly. I was trying to save her, and I did a horrible job of it. And yes, she was trying to save Ra'Val. In traveling to Vulcan I learned that really she is the only one who ever tried to save him."

"But in the end it didn't work," observed Beverly.

"She stopped him" said Picard. "Perhaps that was all she could have done."

Beverly nodded, and touched his forearm lightly, wishing not for the first time that they could be alone.

He looked at her. "T'Pel said she spoke to Lt. Yar, but she wouldn't give me all the details," he said.

Beverly nodded. "Counselor Troi says Tasha refused to attempt a reverse mind-meld. She likes those parts of her that she gained from T'Pel. I don't know if anyone has a right to push her on this."

Picard nodded. "I agree. I suppose we will all need to get to know the new Yar…not that we weren't already still getting to know the old Yar," he added.

She laughed lightly as they stopped at their destination. She turned and looked at him, touching his collar lightly. "Are you sure you want to go in there?" She smiled at him in a way that indicated there were other options, which he knew he would have a hard time refusing if they were anywhere but in a public corridor.

He smiled. "I promised Riker…and Walker." He had moved too close to the door inadvertently, and the door slid open to reveal a room full of people. He gestured for Beverly to walk in before him, and they entered Riker's quarters to find all of the command crew and Walker Keel sitting around a huge table. Data was dealing cards, and everyone was already laughing. The room grew a little quieter when the Captain and Doctor entered, but then the noise level resumed. Riker stood up and gestured to two empty chairs. "Captain, Doctor, please sit, we're just getting under way, but you can get in on the next game."

Walker waved them over. "My two best friends…come on in," he said in his usual welcoming manner. Picard took a look at Beverly questioningly, but she just smiled neutrally and sat down, so he followed her lead.

Picard pulled his chair up to the table. He looked around and could hardly believe that he had met most of these people just a few weeks earlier, and now it seemed almost as though they had known each other for years and now had an infinite amount of time to spend together. Suddenly, for the first time in years he felt as though he had a family again.

"Alright, but only a few rounds," he said, stifling a yawn. "I am feeling a bit fatigued and I think I might turn in early." He felt a hand fall lightly on his thigh and he turned to look at Beverly in surprise.

"Me too," she said with a small smile.

**The end**

* * *

**Hey, hope you enjoyed this story. I enjoyed writing it. The other day I thought of a new story idea and it's been rolling around in my head in a good way ever since; sort of a A/U/Mirror Universe with a couple of twists. I expect to be posting the beginnings of it next week. Will you read it? Stay tuned if you are interested. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Peace out! -PP**


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